#Tablet Printing Machine

[darkfinch]

there needs to be,,,,,a typewriter, but not a hassle to acquire & fix and use and maintain. modern typewriter. simple maybe digital typewriter that doesn't have internet access or other features it's just for typing words and that's it. big storage. maybe it's an e-ink screen so it doesn't hurt ur eyes. maybe it doesnt cost 700 dollars. this is my dream i am gazing dreamily into the night sky dreaming abt it. modern typewriter

[lodhapharma]

The capsule printing machine by Lodha Pharma is an advanced piece of equipment designed for precise and efficient printing on pharmaceutical capsules. This machine integrates cutting-edge technology to deliver high-quality, clear, and accurate prints, ensuring compliance with stringent industry standards. For more info visit our website: https://www.lodhapharma.com/automatic-capsule-printing-machine.php

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

[Part 2] | [More original works]

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)." 

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock. 

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message. 

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

 It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

 "There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days. 

 You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows. 

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?" 

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window. 

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?" 

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied: 

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake. 

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused. 

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else." 

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing. 

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat. 

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport. 

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks. 

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society. 

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation. 

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly. 

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail." 

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary. 

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment? 

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously. 

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology. 

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa. 

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport. 

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead. 

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment. 

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans. 

Just you."

[faeriekit]

Faeriekit's big fat library post: what is a public library for?

Things almost any public library will do:

Let you borrow books. (Specialty libraries and archives may not permit you to borrow delicate materials. You may be able to look at them nevertheless, but you dont know until you ask.)

Allow you to put items on hold! (Want us to pull a book or hold it for you? We'll set it aside under your name as soon as it's available!)

Allow you to join in for programming (may be as simple as kids storytimes, or as complicated as academic lectures. It's usually cooking classes and knitting sessions though when the budget gets short. We love outside presenters though, especially locals.)

Inter-library loans (don't have a rare book? We'll try to get it from another library!)

Things your library will PROBABLY let you do:

Let you borrow other forms of physical media, such as DVDs, Video Games, audiobooks, CDs, etc. (This may cost you extra depending on library policy.)

Let you borrow magazines! (It's not like you're paying for a subscription, unless you're me and you like mail. Let us get them for you.)

Print/fax/scan (depends on the tech available in your library; for instance, it costs your library money to maintain a fax-specific phone line, so they may not do fax. Again, price may vary.)

Access online databases! (Ah, Ebsco. We meet again.) (But sometimes there's some cool stuff. Genealogy databases, kids' encyclopedias, all kinds of cool stuff)

Borrow ebooks and eaudiobooks! And maybe even emagazines! (Despite what people say, Libby is NOT the only service that allows your library to share ebooks with your device. There's like five I can think of off the top of my head, and your library has to pay to play. Ask which service your library offers directly so you can get the good stuff)

Put up/look at flyers. (Good for sharing public information! I just used one of our advertised services to apply for low income housing. Love library wages...woo...)

Let you volunteer! Need something to add to your resume? Need wo build up some real world work skills in a low pressure environment?Spend some time with us!

Let you use public computers! Check your email or watch yt vids or apply for jobs. Up to you.

Play with board games or puzzles as long as you're there. They may even have a swap for people to trade!

Things your library MAY have to offer you:

Makerspace (cool tech that lives at the library you can use/pay to use, such as tools, 3d printers, etc.)

Borrowing cooler tech to take home (WiFi hotspots, single-use tablets, and other cool tech)

English courses! Learn with peers!

Borrowing actual tools! (I had one library card that let me borrow hiking stuff like tents and navigational tools and sewing machines and other cool stuff and they will not renew my card because policy changed and no I'm not crying—)

Museum passes (hey! Sometimes you can get into a museum for free or for cheap!)

Book requests (hey. If you tell the library to buy a book, we may just straight up buy it! Why not? It's a guaranteed circ!)

Social worker/social work help (depends on if your library can cut a deal with an organization that has social workers)

Paperwork help for seniors (I don't know how this works because our town handles this one.)

Notary public services! (This one's just straight up like. My boss.)

Tutoring services! (We have kid volunteers AND a paid online service subscription to a tutoring site. Not bad.)

Certain streaming options! (Movies and television right as your fingertips! Or. Well. You know.)

Home delivery for housebound folks! (This one again depends on staffing, resources, money, etc etc.)

Book purchase! (No, really. Sometimes there's old books for sale, or donor books for sale, to help keep libraries running.)

And, of course, sometimes your local librarians are geniuses and come up with things I haven't even thought of. The moral of the story is, libraries do a lot of things, but the majority of them, as you can probably tell, depend on size, budget, physical resources, and local support. If you are interested in any of these services, please reach out to your local library; even if they don't offer these services specifically, making your interest known tells the library what sort of things people are looking for in the community, and may even affect financial decisions down the road. The thing I would like to emphasize the most, however, is that you are likely already paying for these services in the form of tax dollars; if you do not physically go and find out what services you are entitled to, you will never be able to take advantage of them.

Call your local library today to find out the specifics!

[colormepurplex2]

Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop | MYG

▻ Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop ↳ ArtProfessor!Yoongi x Artist/CoffeeShopOwner!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Cozy Romance ⤜ Coffee Shop/Art AU | fluff, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 8,028 ⤜ Summary: It’s like clockwork; you receive the same online order every weekday morning at eight o’clock: large decaf iced Americano, picked up promptly shortly after. His face has become familiar, as a part of your routine as the hiss of the espresso machine. Until, one day, that routine takes an unexpected turn, and you find yourself getting familiar with more than just his face. ⚠️ Very mild language, panic over student/teacher potential date (reader is a student, but she's the same age as Yoongi, just taking classes later in life than most), oral m receiving, fingering, kissing, mild dirty talk, cum swallowing, confessions of the heart

A/N: This is part of my 'Heartbeat Melodies' mini-series, where I write fics that are inspired by songs. If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this, you can find it here! A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi & @moonleeai for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

“Large decaf iced Americano,” you call out, barely glancing up from behind the counter.

A deep, familiar drawl pulls your attention, “That would be mine.” It’s only familiar for the fact you’ve heard that voice nearly every day for the last six months.

Your eyes snap up from the tablet, where the next online order has come through, to meet warm brown ones. “I should have known,” you reply before you can think better to bite your tongue. Heat suffuses your cheeks. You pull your lips between your teeth to stifle the groan of embarrassment that begs to be released.

The man chuckles, absently using a knuckle to push up the hornrimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that comment. But, I guess I do come here a lot.”

Nearly every day for the last six months, at least. That’s how often he comes here—to your coffee shop. It’s tiny, barely big enough for a handful of small tables and chairs. But it’s yours, and you’re proud of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to seem…” you trail off. Not sure how to finish that thought because you’re not entirely sure how you meant it or why you said it other than the fact you’re a bit frazzled this morning and apparently forgot your mouth filter at home. It was a late night last night for you. It's not an excuse, but still.

He waves a large hand in the air, dismissing your apology. “Please, it’s quite alright. I’ll take it as flattery; could use a little boost to my confidence anyhow.”

That almost makes you sputter in disbelief. There’s absolutely no way this man needs any flattery. Surely, he comes by it in droves. Because, well, he’s honestly so gorgeous it should be criminal.

His hair is fluffy, somewhere between charcoal grey and black, though the warm lighting of your cafe gives it a golden honey halo effect. The eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses are dark swirls of espresso that match his coffee order—a straight nose sitting above soft, pink lips that have a light glossy sheen to them.

As usual, he’s wearing a pressed slack and jacket combo, a cream-colored collared shirt underneath with a bold print tie. His choice of ties is what drew you to him in the first place, and made you pay a little closer attention to the mysterious man behind the large decaf iced Americano.

You clear your throat, daring to be bold, while it seems you’ve no filter to stop you. “Well, if you ever need further flattery, you know where to find me.” It’s clear that you give him an assessing once over, his eyes locked onto yours as you do so.

“Do you paint?”

The question throws you off, nearly making you drop the tablet in your hands. Your fingers flex against the case, your thumb brushing along the glass screen. Busying yourself with reviewing the next order on the screen, you turn, giving him your back as you decide how to answer his random question. You’ve never actually had a conversation with him; this man that you feel like you know yet is a complete stranger.

“Why do you ask?” you deflect as you go through the motions of scooping grinds and swapping out the portafilter for a freshly filled one. However, you know it’s not always polite to answer a question with a question; you’re just not sure how to decipher his curiosity or where it came from to begin with.

The bell above the door rings, and you wince as the espresso machine gurgles and hisses loudly as you mechanically pop a cup in the machine and hit the brew button. The noise fills the quiet space of the coffee shop. It’s not until the cup is filled, you’ve added two lumps of sugar, and you’re grabbing a lid that the man responds.

“There’s paint under your fingernails. Or, at least, what I would guess is paint.”

Glancing down at the cup in your hand, you take in the colorful myriad of flecks coating your skin. The colors fill the grooves of your knuckles and hug around the bed of your nails.

“Double espresso with two sugars,” you announce, ripping your gaze from your hand to the interior space of your cafe. A woman steps around the man, giving you a hurried smile as she holds out her hand to receive the cup. You hand it off. “Have a good day.”

Giving the cafe's inside a quick glance, you ensure all the customers within are taken care of. A college student is busy pounding away at their laptop keyboard in the corner, utilizing your free wifi. A half-empty cup of hot cocoa sits cold and abandoned beside them. A trio of friends sit at your only table big enough to seat more than two people, laughing softly and sipping hot lattes and teas. No one seems to need your attention; except the man still standing there, large decaf iced Americano in hand.

You lick your lips, a nervous habit you picked up after endless stressful nights pouring your heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into opening the small cafe. Most believed it would flop; others rallied to your side and helped your dream come true.

“Look, sorry if I’ve overstepped somehow,” he begins, but you shake your head, letting him know he’s not.

Gesturing at the wall behind the man, you finally answer, “In my spare time.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes zigzagging across the giant unfinished mural covering the windowless back wall of the cafe.

“That?” he asks. “You’re painting that?”

It’s hard to decipher if that’s disbelief or awe coloring his voice.

“I am,” you answer a bit hesitantly.

“Wow!” he exclaims, a giant grin spreading across his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. “I’ve been meaning to ask after the artist every time I come in and see something new added, I just uh,” he brings his free hand up and rubs it across the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor under his feet, “well, could never bring myself to.” It’s pretty, the way his cheeks take on a flush of color as his eyes cut to you from over the frame of his glasses. “It’s wonderful work.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help your own flush of shyness at his praise.

“So, uh,” he lifts his cup and gives it a swirl, the ice sloshing around inside, before taking a small sip through the straw, “I know you probably see it on the order, but for the sake of propriety, my name’s Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi, to be more precise, you know. It’s a name you’ve read so many times it’s ingrained in your mind. However, it’s still nice for him to offer it to you. Willingly establishing your connection one step further than his coffee order.

You feel so silly tapping the name tag on the front of your apron, but you do it before you can think better of it, mumbling your name as if he can’t read it for himself after you brought direct attention to it. “Sorry, I’m not normally so weird,” you give a shaky laugh, willing yourself to shut up before you chase him off from how awkward you’re being.

Something changes in his demeanor, his eyes taking on a light twinkle that sits somewhere between mischief and wonder. “I like weird,” he offers casually as if that doesn’t make your stomach swoop and your heart beat a little harder. “Maybe we can talk more about your art sometime. Maybe over dinner? Or lunch if dinner is too forward.”

If you were a cartoon, you’re confident your tongue would actually be tied into a jumbled knot right now with you frantically trying to talk around it, a comical scene for sure. Yet, there is no knot, just a thick feeling that you have to swallow past. “Um, yeah, sure. That would be great. Dinner…or uh, lunch. Both. Either one. Though, dinner might be better considering my hours.”

Yoongi glances at the vinyl hours printed on the front window by the door. They’re backward from his vantage point, but you assume he has no issue reading them, considering he turns back to you and asks, “How does seven work for you?”

“Tonight?” The beating of your heart lurches again, and you can barely hear him over the rushing in your ears.

“Yeah, if that’s not too soon. Perhaps next week, if that’s better? I don’t want to come on too strong. Or well, rather, what I mean to say is, don’t feel pressured.” You can tell he’s feeling hesitant now, trying to backtrack and offer you a way to politely decline his offer for dinner tonight. You didn’t mean to come off sounding so put out. You just weren’t expecting his request to be for tonight.

Mentally, you dig through your schedule. You’re not closing today. Marvin comes in at noon to help with the lunch rush, and then you leave at four to make it to your five o’clock class. It would be today of all days that your new art class starts. It’s the beginning of the fall semester at the local university, and you just so happened to decide to take a few art classes they were offering, the first of which starts tonight.

The class should only be around an hour long, with plenty of time to get home and change before the date. Is it a date? Or just strangers getting together to talk about art? Isn’t that what a date is anyway, though?

“Seven. Tonight. That would be great.”

“Okay, perfect. Can I pick you up? Or we can meet here if that works better.”

It’s endearing he’d offer, both picking you up and meeting in a familiar place. Considering you live above the coffee shop, though, it makes no difference. Though, he doesn’t necessarily know that.

“Here is fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you tried that steak house on the corner yet?”

“The new one that opened last week?” He nods. “I haven’t, no.”

“Perfect.” Yoongi smiles. “Here, at seven. Consider it a date.” His smile falters, and his brows pinch, forming a line between them. “Not that I…well, it’s not that…it doesn’t have to be…if you don’t want this to be a date, that’s—”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, giving him what you hope to be a warm smile to ease his mild panic. “I’ll see you then, Yoongi.”

“See you then,” he responds, tacking your name on at the end in his deep drawl. The way it sounds coming from his mouth should be added to one of those spicy erotica audiobooks you may or may not have downloaded on your phone.

Just as Yoongi is leaving, it’s like the world finally takes a breath, and the exhalation that follows brings with it a rush of early morning commuters seeking their morning fix. The everyday bustle and hubbub of the day filter back in, and you’re soon lost to the sway of the shop, coffee, tea, and cocoa. It all comes alive beneath your nimble fingers, much reminiscent of the way holding a brush makes you feel: a thrill of the soul with each pour.

☕☕☕

Yoongi

In all Yoongi’s years of teaching, he’s never been late to a class, especially on the first day of the semester. Yet, he’s nearly fifteen minutes late getting into his classroom this morning. Students are already filled in and scattered around the theatre-style seating. No one says anything. It’s far too early in the morning for smart mouths and snarky remarks about his tardiness. Not that he would expect that from any of the students anyway.

“Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min.” He drops his bag and coffee off on his podium at the front of the classroom. Turning to the large chalkboard behind it, he scrawls his name to the side and then begins to write directions. “We will begin with Chapter 1, ‘Mediums and Forms’, in your textbook. Please read quietly, and I’ll be with you all in a moment.”

The day goes on, class after class, and the familiar monotony of it brings Yoongi a sense of peace. This is familiar territory; he’s in his element, not like this morning in the coffee shop. He felt totally out of control and swept up in the swirl of uncertainties and possibilities.

To say he’s relieved you agreed to go to dinner with him would be an understatement. From the moment he decided to change up his routine to check out the cafe Namjoon wouldn’t shut up about, he’s been hooked not only on the impeccable decaf iced Americano, nor the beautifully decorated and painted interior but on the smiling face behind the counter.

Yoongi feels a bit self-conscious thinking about how much he thinks about you. He’s always been too intimidated by the idea of speaking more than a few passing words to you. It’s like every time he gathered up the courage, it would abandon him at the last moment. Namjoon calls it a crush, Yoongi calls it frustrating.

The whole conversation this morning is a bit of a blur to him. Yoongi swears once he opened his mouth it was nearly impossible to stop the word vomit from gushing out…and the next thing he knew, you were agreeing to a date with him tonight.

The day's last class rolls around, and Yoongi feels much lighter as he steps out of his adjoining office and into the classroom to welcome the new students. A few offer him quiet hello’s, some he’s seen from other art classes he’s monitored across the entire department and fine arts program. 

Turning his back as the last few students filter in, he makes the same spiel he has at the beginning of every class. “Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min…”

And so it begins, the beautiful dance of teaching and introducing fresh minds to the concept of forms and mediums. Yoongi is sure he could recite the entirety of Chapter 1 from memory now, with as many times as he’s gone over it today.

“What if you decide you don’t like your form or medium halfway through the project?” a student from the front row asks after Yoongi explains the medium and forms requisite for the final project for this class.

“We’re going to spend plenty of time during the first part of the semester testing out different mediums to know which best suits each of your individual tastes and needs. Regarding the form, I recommend choosing something you most likely won’t tire of. Something that means something to you but also isn’t so complex that you frustrate yourself and burn out before you can complete the project. You’re welcome to, at any time, bring me an idea of the form you’re considering, and we can talk about the intricacies and any potential issues that might arise with using it.”

Another question comes from somewhere in the middle, “Can we choose people, too?”

“A form can be anything that inspires you. If that happens to be a person, then of course. However, note that portraiture isn’t covered until Art 322, but I’ll do my best to help if that’s what you choose.” Yoongi glances at the clock, noticing there are only a few minutes left of class. “Let’s take the last few minutes to wind down, pack your things. If you have any further questions concerning your final project forms and mediums, please don’t hesitate to email me. Also, my office hours are open Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to six.”

As Yoongi turns to begin putting his things away from his podium, his eyes slide across the faces of his last class students, trying to cram them into his mind for the sake of remembering. He always likes to be as personable and approachable to his students as possible; knowing names and faces is always a good place to start.

He has to do a double take as his eyes flick over the very top row. The shock is felt throughout his entire body. It’s not that he’s surprised to see a face he already knows. It’s just that he wasn’t expecting it…wasn’t expecting to see you. Mild panic makes him jerk around, hands gripping at the papers on his podium, shuffling them mechanically.

The first thought that crosses his mind is he can’t possibly be going on a date with one of his students. Surely you’re just here to…to what? He turns over one of the papers, quickly scanning his roster that he hadn’t bothered to check yet. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to snag on your name.

Unease settles across his shoulders. He hates to cancel the date, as he was really looking forward to it, but it’s just…not right, right? There’s a line he shouldn’t cross with his students, even one who he is sure is his age and not the typical college freshman. Yoongi knows this because maybe, perhaps, he might have spent his lunch hour googling you and the cafe. You’re in your early thirties, given the birth year that was viewable on one of your social media pages, and own the coffee shop, have for several years now…a full-ass grown adult—the perfect person to date.

Except now you’re his student. There’s some moral code there somewhere, something about the skewed power dynamic. The thought of going on this date should have red flags flashing in his mind. Yet…yet, no matter how much he tells himself to cancel, he honestly doesn’t want to. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? A harmless date.

That’s what he’s still telling himself as he dismisses the class a few minutes later. He intentionally avoided looking in your direction, unsure if you’d be comfortable with him acknowledging you as one of his students or not.

Much to his surprise, as the bubble of sound dissipates, a soft voice reaches his ears from a few feet behind him, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yoongi has been so consumed with his own feelings about going on a date with a student that he hasn’t even thought about how you might feel. Are you about to cancel on him? Does he try to convince you not to?

He slowly turns, the stack of papers clutched in his hands, glasses slipping down his nose, yet he doesn’t want to pry his fingers from the bundle to fix them. “Look, I understand if you’d rather not—”

“I’m fine as long as you are.”

He’s relieved for your interruption, for keeping him from saying those words out loud. “Are you sure? If I had known this morning that you’d be one of my students…” he trails off, because he’s not so sure that would have stopped him after all. Considering he’s wanted to ask you out for at least the last four months.

“I’m glad you asked me. Student or not. I promise not to make it weird if you don’t.” You give him a brilliant smile, coy and full of mirth but light enough to make his heart jerk inside his chest.

“No weirdness, got it,” he agrees, unable to help his own teasing smile.

“So, I’ll see you then?” you ask, hefting your canvas bag on your shoulder. His eyes flick to it, noting the splashes and swirls of fabric paint that cover the outside. Yoongi wonders if you painted it yourself.

He nods, letting his eyes drink you in one last time before you turn to go. You’re still wearing the same jeans and thin cable knit sweater from the coffee shop this morning. Even in such casual clothes, you are stunning. A work of art all your own. He doesn’t stop staring until the door to his classroom shuts behind you.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. It’s not out of irritation or anger, just an acknowledgement of how truly and utterly he’s got it down bad for you.

☕☕☕

Seven can’t come soon enough. It only took you thirty minutes to get ready, putting on a simple black dress and flats. It’s not too fancy, but it makes you feel far more put together than just jeans and a t-shirt.

At five til, you make your way down into the coffee shop from your upstairs apartment. All of the main overhead lights are off, leaving only the warm accent lights that line the menu board and the display case lights on. Even now, the space smells delightedly of coffee.

It’s kind of funny, the fact that you’re not a coffee drinker. Everyone finds it odd that someone who doesn’t drink coffee would aspire to open a coffee shop. What they fail to realize is you love the smell of coffee. The warm, roasted, mildly sweet notes are what you thrive on, better than any shot of espresso in your mind.

There is a street lamp right outside your shop, flooding the sidewalk with a pool of yellow light. Standing just within the glow is Yoongi, his back to the shop door. You watch as his head swivels, looking down both directions of the sidewalk, completely unaware that you’ll be coming from behind him instead.

The sound of the lock turning over startles him. He jerks around and laughs softly, taking a step back, hand to his chest, as you pull the door open. “Can’t say I expected you to come from inside the cafe.”

“I would have been down sooner had I known you would be a bit early,” you say, locking the door behind you. “I probably should have given you my number or something.”

Yoongi eyes you, his gaze sliding up and down your body like he’s drinking you in. You hope he likes what he sees. “I think I was so excited about the date that I forgot even to ask,” he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when his eyes finally land back on yours. “You look,” —he gives you another quick once over, shaking his head and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip— “gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you preen under his praise. “You look quite handsome, yourself.”

You’re not just saying that to return the compliment, either. Yoongi is wearing the same thing he was this morning, except the tie is loosened, and the top button of his shirt is undone, giving you the slightest peek at his prominent jugular notch.

“Shall we?” he asks, offering you his arm.

You slip your hand into the bend of his elbow, falling into step beside him. The walk to the steak house is short, just enough for pleasant exchanges. He asks how your day at the coffee shop went, and you ask after his first day of classes. Neither of you bring up the fact that you were part of one of those classes.

“I’ve been meaning to check this place out. I’ve heard excellent things.”

Yoongi hums, nodding his head at your words. “I’ve also heard good things, though it might perhaps be biased considering all the praise I’ve heard has come from the owner himself.”

“You’ve spoken with the owner?”

“He’s one of my best friends, actually. This will be the first time I try it out. I kept telling him I’d stop by, but it always got away from me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “I can’t believe you know Seokjin.”

“Wait, you know Seokjin?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“I’d say know is a relative term. We get deliveries from the same produce truck. He tried to take my apples one time. I had to set him straight.” That makes Yoongi laugh along with you. “We chat sometimes, mostly about the quality of produce and the best places to get ingredients. I had no idea he was your friend.”

“Small world,” Yoongi says. His smile is warm and inviting. You’re sure you could get lost in it if he’d let you. It makes you wonder what his lips taste like. They have a slight sheen to them like they did this morning. Cherry chapstick? Maybe mint? A nice subtle vanilla?

You’re not sure the last time you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes. But Yoongi has your sides in stitches and your cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so much during dinner.

“Oh gosh,” you wheeze between fits of giggling, clutching your stomach. “Ow, ow. Don’t make me laugh again. I can’t take it.” It just makes you laugh even more, the huffs trailing off as Yoongi reaches across the table toward you.

You pry your hands from your abdomen and slide them into his. His fingers are warm against yours, his thumbs rubbing across the backs of your knuckles. It’s a gesture he’s done several times tonight, silently asking for your hands any chance he could.

“Sorry, you just have such a beautiful laugh,” he says. “I could listen to it all day.”

His flattery hasn’t stopped. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two glasses of wine he had with dinner were going to his head. But, he speaks so assuredly and looks in your eyes like you’re truly something special.

Feeling so intimately connected with someone you barely know might be absurd. Yet, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. If you’re being honest, the attraction started long ago, and tonight has just made it blossom into something so much more.

Yoongi has been the perfect gentleman. He’s not tried to railroad the conversation or make decisions for you like other guys you’ve gone on dates with. Whenever a server approached the table, he would defer to you and your needs before his.

“You’ve been so wonderful to me tonight. Please let me repay you with coffee and dessert. If you’re up for it.”

Yoongi squeezes both your hands before letting them go and sitting back in his chair. “There is no need to ‘repay’ me,” he says, emphasizing the word repay. “But, I wouldn’t say no to a date after this date, say in fifteen minutes, coffee and dessert?”

“Fifteen minutes? Coffee and dessert?” You give him a thoughtful look, tapping your fingers against your chin. “Hmm. I think I’m available.” You both break into more fits of soft laughter, contrasting so highly to the high energy from before; it’s intimate, if laughing can be such a thing.

It’s easy being with Yoongi; he’s attentive and curious. “What made you want to open a coffee shop?” he asks as you unlock the door to the cafe.

“I liked the idea of having a space that could cater to people from all walks of life. Businessmen in a hurry? Get it to go. Students needing a place to study? I have a quiet corner for that. College professor looking for his daily decaf Americao fix? Would you look at that? I got that covered, too.” You usher him inside, closing and locking the door behind you. “It also doubles as a great place to have a private coffee and dessert date after a lovely dinner date.”

You watch as Yoongi looks around the cozy space, his attention ending on the mural wall. “What’s your favorite kind of coffee?”

“Would it be weird if I said I don’t like coffee?” you ask.

He glances at you from over his shoulder. “Really?”

You shrug. “I love the way it smells, though.”

“Acrylic?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward the mural.

“Good eye,” you assess, stepping behind the counter to start making the coffee. You grab two pecan cinnamon twirls from the dry storage where you keep extra treats to take up to your apartment at the end of each shift and pop them into the small convection oven along the back wall. “You teach art, but it might be presumptuous of me to assume you also create. So, do you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to. Pastels and charcoal are my favorites to work with. I like the mildly messy, chaotic feel of them. There are few things better than the feeling of taking something so uncontrolled and turning it into a thing of beauty.”

“Charcoal, huh?” Your mind instantly goes to the framed collection of pieces you have in your apartment upstairs. “I can appreciate that.”

“Maybe I can show you sometime.” Yoongi turns from his appreciation of your mural to watch you work behind the counter. He gestures to a few frames hung up on either side of the giant menu on the wall. “Arfé, right?”

You glance up, moving with automated motions to load the portafilter into the espresso machine. “Oh,” you laugh. “Yeah. An experiment. I wanted to try something new and needed some new decor. I thought it was appropriately on theme.”

The half-dozen pieces are all made with swirls of various shades in brown and tan and depict a mix of cups, mugs, bags of grinds, lumps of sugar, and piles of roasted coffee beans.

“Very appropriate. They’re lovely. You’re an exceptional artist.” You’ve lost count of the amount of compliments Yoongi has paid you tonight. You might have been the one flattering him this morning, but it seems he’s making up for that now.

“Thank you. Truly. That means a lot coming from you.” The hiss of the brew machine fills the air, and the soft gurgle of espresso trickling into the small mug follows. “One decaf Americano for one of my best customers,” you say, carefully carrying the steaming cup over to a table beside Yoongi. “Please, sit.”

Yoongi settles at the table, bringing the cup of coffee up to his nose and giving it an appreciative sniff. “Wonderful,” he murmurs before taking a tentative sip. “Thank you, that hits the spot.”

“If you think the Americano is good, wait until you try this,” you say, scooping the twirls out of the oven and onto a plate. They’re perfectly warm and gooey. “You’ve never tried any of our pastries, have you?”

You sit across from him. The table is small enough that you could reach out and cup his cheek if you wanted, and set the plate on the table before Yoongi. He whistles low, “Wow, these do look amazing. Maybe I’ll become a pecan twirl and coffee guy every morning instead.”

Your eyes track his movements, watching as his fingers pinch and slightly sink into the edges of one of the twirls. Some of the warm glaze and cinnamon sugar filling squishes from between the layers.

Yoongi’s lips part and the tip of his tongue peaks over his bottom teeth as he brings the pastry up to take a bite. The moan he lets out surprises you both. His eyes flutter before landing on you and going wide. He chews methodically, his gaze not leaving yours. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips before he swallows.

“Well?” you ask, settling your elbows on the table and leaning into him, expectant.

The smile that tugs at his lips is coy. “Might be one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.” There is a heat in his gaze as his eyes search yours. “What other surprises do you have up your proverbial sleeve for me?”

“Now, if I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises anymore, would they?”

That makes him laugh. “Fair point. You know,” he glances around the coffee shop, “I never knew just what it was about this coffee shop I loved so much, but I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling positively giddy.

“Mhm. So,” he mirrors your pose across the table, his elbows nearly touching your own, fingers toying with yours where they’re folded in the air in front of your face, “is it too soon to ask you on a second date?”

“I thought this was our second date.” You raise a teasing eyebrow, a smile quirking on your lips.

“A third then,” he offers, eyes hopeful.

Of course, you want to say yes. And in the spirit of trying to be coy and playful, you lean in with the full intent of showing him instead of telling him how much you want to go on another date.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to your lips, watching as you deliberately lick them as you lean in a bit closer. Acceptance lies within their dark depths, a flash of hunger at the impending response that’s only a breath away.

As you advance, your elbows slide on the table, accidentally knocking the coffee cup. Liquid goes everywhere; it floods over the table and pours off the side…right into Yoongi’s lap.

“Oh fuck!” you yell, jumping up from the table and rushing around to his side. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance? Does it burn?”

Yoongi pushes back from the table, holding his arms up off his lap as he assesses the mess. “No harm done. It was already cooled off. It's just a bit of a mess, that’s all. I’m fine,” he laughs. “Truly, I promise. Do you have any towels or anything?”

“Oh god, your shirt, it’s going to stain,” you lament, staring at the dark splotch soaking through above his trousers. “Towels? Yes. Yes. Okay. And some baking soda. Come on, let’s hurry. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“Should we clean this up first?” he asks, motioning at the coffee-covered floor.

“I can mop in the morning. Please,” you fret, guilt making you a bit frantic and flustered.

Yoongi lets you lead him up the stairs in the back that go to your apartment. “You live here?” he questions. “No wonder you were coming out of the coffee shop earlier. That’s very cool.”

You make a noncommittal sound. “It’s cool if you like the smell of coffee and don’t mind rising early every day to open shop.”

It’s so hard to think right now, your mind solely focused on cleaning up the mess you’ve made of Yoongi’s clothes. That’s what you get for trying to be sly and answer his date question with a kiss. You’ll be lucky if he still wants that date now, surely.

The bathroom is barely big enough for the two of you. You insist Yoongi sit on the lip of the tub while you dig under the sink for the baking soda that you use for cleaning and removing your own coffee stains.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, grabbing your attention. You glance at him over your shoulder, bottom lip clamped between your teeth in an effort not to fall apart entirely. “I promise it’s okay, alright? You don’t have to stress over it. It’s just an accident. It's a pretty funny one if you ask me. If I’d have known we were getting wet on the first—I mean, second date, I would have planned accordingly.”

His words hang between you, full of static and charged with intention. He’s trying to lighten the mood…and it’s working. It’s also making you feel a certain kind of way. Words shouldn’t have the power to do that. Yet, here you are, flustered for a whole different reason now.

“Date’s not over yet,” you respond, unsure where the bold attitude came from, but you’ll take it. His eyes flicker with something like surprise mixed with desire, though it’s gone before you can really be sure. “Do you mind?” You gesture to his shirt. “It’ll be easier if I can soak it in the sink.”

Slowly, Yoongi undoes the buttons on his shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. Somehow, you weren’t expecting him to be naked underneath, but every open button reveals another swath of flesh. He shrugs out of the shirt, revealing a toned chest and taut belly. His nipples are hard, dark chips, standing out in contrast to his smooth, creamy skin. Yoongi is absolutely breathtaking.

In fact, you have to remind yourself to breathe, taking in a large lungful of air that’s so much it makes your chest ache. He holds the shirt out to you in offering. Your fingers tremble lightly as you take it, quickly turning back to the sink and the distraction of scrubbing at the stain.

Reading over the garment tag quickly, you make sure what you’re about to do is okay. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on your back, like heated dagger points pricking beneath your skin. You turn on the water, letting the tap run until it’s hot, before quickly swishing the area of the shirt covered in coffee under it. The hot water alone makes a world of difference, the dark liquid swirling away down the drain.

“Do you want my pants, too?” Yoongi asks, startling you.

Your eyes flick up to the mirror, looking at him through the reflection. He’s talking to you, but his attention is zeroed in on your backside. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware that your dress has ridden up dangerously high. You can feel the cool air of the bathroom kissing the crease between your thigh and asscheek.

Turning off the water, you slowly turn to face him. Your chest rises and falls as you try to take deep, even breaths, but with the way your heart is revving inside, it’s impossible to do so. “Let’s see the damage,” you say lightly, raising an eyebrow in question, giving him a chance to call you off.

When he doesn’t comment further, you close the distance to where he’s sitting and ease down onto your knees. You mentally tell yourself it’s so you can get a better look at the coffee that’s saturating the dark fabric, but you know better than that.

Being so close to him, you can feel the heat of his body. His chest rises and falls as rapidly as yours, and when you look up and meet his gaze, there is no mistaking the fire that you see blazing there. “Don’t think I forgot you still haven’t answered my question,” he murmurs, lips barely moving as he watches you.

You lift a hand, hooking your index finger under his chin and using it to angle his face toward yours. “I’d love that,” you respond, your lips brushing over his with every syllable.

He kisses you. Or maybe you kiss him. It’ll be something you tease each other over for many years to come. You open yourself to him, welcoming the glide of his tongue against yours. The kiss tastes mildly of coffee, yet for the first time in your life, you don’t mind the flavor.

“For me to take my pants off, or the date?” he teases, alternating between nipping and consuming kisses. Yoongi’s hands frame your face, holding you to him as he continues to ravage your mouth.

“Mm, both,” you manage to get out. “Definitely both.” Sliding your hands down his torso, you marvel at the softness of his skin and the already very prominent bulge that your fingers dance over as you try to get a grip on the button to his slacks.

Yoongi breaks away from the kiss long enough to help you with his pants, standing up from the edge of the tub and bringing you up with him. He toes off his shoes, leaving his pants puddled on top of them. “Good answer,” he chuckles.

You let out a tiny squeal as he wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs and hauls you up, your legs automatically winding around his waist. Thick erection pressed right against your panty-covered pussy, he slowly walks you out of the bathroom and into your adjoining room. You land on the bed with a soft oomph, Yoongi following you down. His weight is a comfort, settled over your body in a warm, hedonistic embrace.

“I’ll change classes,” you pant, flexing your hips against his. “As long as our next date is to an art gallery.”

“Is it weird for that to turn me on?” he responds, groaning as you roll your hips against him again. “The art part, not the dropping classes part. You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I know your schedule must be pretty set with the cafe.”

You press your hands against his chest, giving him a gentle push until he’s rolling over and you’re hovering over him. “I’ll make it work. I want to make it work. Everything tonight,” you pause and sit back on your heels, dragging your hands along his torso as you do, “I want more. You’re driving me crazy in the best of ways.”

“Says the woman who’s been running through my thoughts for the last several months now.” Yoongi’s lips part in a gasp, turning his last word into a breathly plea as you trace the tips of your fingers over his straining erection. The fabric of his grey boxer briefs is slightly sticky when you brush your thumb over the head.

“It reminds me of making art,” you casually say, curling your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and tugging until he lifts his hips and lets you drag them down. You toss them to the side, marveling at the glory now resting against his belly. Yoongi’s cock is a gentle upward curve, all smooth steel and thick veins. It throbs, bouncing against his stomach, leaving behind a thick smear of precum. “The way you make me feel.”

“Art?” he asks, breathless. His eyes flutter behind his glasses, his chest hollowing as he sucks in ragged breaths.

“Being with you gives me the same feeling as viewing a Duncanson or a Matisse, calm and full of joy. Though, you can also make me feel the chaos of a Kandinsky when you touch me.” To emphasize your words, you wrap your fingers around his girth, angling it up, watching the emotions on his face. The tip of his tongue works at the corner of his mouth, lips parted with every pant and soft moan. “Is this okay?” you ask, leaning down and gently blowing over the leaking tip before tentatively giving it a kitten lick.

“More than,” Yoongi moans. His eye slide closed as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. The flavor of him bursts across your tongue. You can’t help but moan yourself at the idea you’ve made him like this, hard and leaking.

Working as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, you delight in the shuddering convulses you can feel from his body as he loses himself in the sensations you’re bringing him. Yoongi always seems like such a collected individual. He still appeared so well-kept even when he stuttered over his words asking you on the date this morning. Now, though, he’s unraveling into a puddle of debauchery.

It’s a satisfying feeling, similar to when you get into a perfect rhythm when working on a project, bringing him to the edge. You work your mouth and hand in tandem, never leaving an inch of his cock free of your touch.

“Mmm,” you moan, the head of his cock resting in the back of your throat. Yoongi jerks under you, half raising onto his elbows, his eyes zeroing in on where you’re wrapped around him.

His fingers twist into the duvet, bottom lip puffy and flushed as he worries it with his teeth. “I’m going to cum,” he grunts, throwing his head back and moaning his pleasures, deep and throaty.

You quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck in earnest. Yoongi cries out a second before liquid warmth floods your mouth. It’s greedy, the way you swallow and continue to lave your tongue over him, eliciting tiny tremors and more moans.

“Just like art,” you whisper, finally letting his cock slip from between your lips. You’re riding your own high, wet and throbbing between your thighs. You can feel the ache in your clit, begging to be touched. All it would take is a few seconds, a few well-placed swirls of your fingers, and you know you’d be floating in orgasmic bliss.

Before you can even think of bringing your hand between your thighs to find relief, Yoongi is sitting up and urging you backward. Your back hits the mattress, and he settles on his side beside you. Somewhere between there and here, he pulled off his glasses. Despite having just found his release, his eyes are still so full of hunger and desire.

“May I?” he asks, pressing a hand against your inner thigh. You nod, eyes locked with his as he slowly trails his hand upward until his fingers brush over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in to capture your mouth in a languid kiss. Your lids flutter closed, consumed as you are by his touch.

Yoongi takes his time, toying with the edge of your panties before tugging them down past your knees. They pool around your ankles as he pushes your thighs apart, exposing your weeping pussy to the air of the bedroom.

��Yoongi.” His name is half moan, half curse as he brings his hand back up and cups your heat. The meat of his palm rests against your clit, right where you need to be touched, but the pressure isn’t enough to satisfy.

“An exquisite work of art.” His lips strum against yours, plucking and teasing just the way his fingers do through your wetness. The tips of his fingers briefly kiss your clit, dancing away before returning; a slow build of decadent pleasure.

It’s not above you to beg. “Please. Yoongi, please!”

“Open your eyes, look at me. Let me watch you fall apart so I can brand it into my memory.”

You snap open your eyes the exact moment he slides two slender fingers into your pussy, thumb finally giving the needed pressure to your clit. You’re so worked up that your body pulses around the intrusion, a tiny fluttering orgasm rippling through you.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

Yoongi gives you a wicked, knowing smile. “It’s not over yet, beautiful,” he assures you in a whispered promise.

His fingers are long, able to reach the perfect, special place inside you. As he strokes his fingertips, moving them in an undulating wave, his thumb swirls in a circle around your clit.

The next orgasm is less surprising, building to a heightened peak that has you crying out as you careen over the edge, entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. “Yoongi, fuck!” you babble, your whole body alive with sensations of pleasure.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “So beautiful.”

Your body shudders around his hand, his fingers slowing down their rhythm until you finally recover. The slide of his fingers along your walls as he withdraws makes you wish he’d put them back in…or maybe something else. The bereft feeling lasts only a moment before Yoongi gathers you into his arms. He’s completely naked, and you’re still wearing your dress, but you feel just as exposed as he is…only, it’s your soul on display for him instead of your body.

You wait for the feeling of vulnerability to filter in, that broken feeling of uncertainty. But, it doesn’t come. The only thing you feel is complete and utter content. It’s not even the post-orgasmic bliss that’s clouding it, either. No, there’s plenty of that, but it feels different; he feels different.

“Yoongi,” you begin, resting your cheek on his chest. You want to confess to him, but the words get choked in your throat. Is it too soon? Are you completely crazy? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Fuck. Here goes nothing. “This feels good, really good. Is it too soon to say…?”

“Too soon to say?” he prompts.

You absently trace haphazard swirls and lines across his chest, trying to think of how to word it. “I, well…”

“Too soon to say that I think possibly, maybe, I’m falling for you?” You look up at him, surprised by his words. Yoongi looks at you with so much warmth and affection in his eyes. “Because that’s exactly how I feel, too.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-12-30 ColorMePurplex2

[ofmermaidstories]

there’s something so bittersweet and lovely about fanfic, at it’s core. it’s so impermeable, because it’s so individual. fics don’t get finished. fics get lost because they were typed out and sent to friends, in the 70s, and somewhere along the way someone packed it up in a cardboard box and their kids shuffled it to the attic. websites go down. archives get built, but then people lose faith in the story or the canon or the creator and delete them. you read it at like, 3am, and can’t remember the title months later when you look for it again.

the tiktok these comments are from was lamenting about the loss of a favourite fic—it (the tiktok) had 85k+ likes, and over 700 comments, mostly similar to these. people talking about downloading fics to read on a tablet only for them to disappear the next day. using the wayback machine and combing through results, just to find something they loved. i think it’s sweet because it’s so human—how easily we love something, and how easily we lose it. i used to print out my favourite fics, as a kid—i still have a binder of them, buried under yearbooks and the old journals i kept during those topsy turvy preteen years. i could tell you the overarching plot to a Cardcaptor Sakura fantasy AU i read (and loved; it became my personality for months afterwards) but i can’t remember how it ended, or if it even did. i finally broke down and signed up for an account on AO3 specifically to bookmark an old, old fic that i had read somewhere else, years and years and years ago and found again on AO3 only because i accidentally stumbled on the author here on tumblr (i had only found the fic in the first place all those years ago because of a playlist). i used the same shade of lipstick for years purely because a fic i really liked had the main character apply it (it was a limited edition one at the time; i bought my first one from a ebay seller in the UK at double the retail price, lmao) while the love interest watched them, but i can’t remember the name of it, only how it made me feel (and how, for years afterwards, i would wear that shade whenever i felt like the day had something promising to it).

one of the first anon’s i ever got, in the early days of this tumblr, was someone who asked me if it was okay if they downloaded surrender—and of course it was. of course it is. there was a point, during the final stretch when i was trying to write the last chapter, that i almost lost the entirety of what i had written for that fic—and i mean, it was on AO3 by that stage so it would’ve only set me back a chapter or so, but it goes to show how fragile things can be. how sometimes fics only last in tiny ways—because of the unfinished PDF file someone downloads. The patchy memory of someone’s who’s jumbling it and three other fics together. Because someone wore the same shade of lipstick you mentioned, off-hand, for years afterwards.

(this is a love letter to the silent readers; the silent savers. the lurkers. fandom and the internet at large is made of lurkers (eighty-five thousand likes. seven hundred comments). people who saved fics and waybacked them and will reread them, even uncompleted. telling each other we did a good job, that we liked this or we liked that is wonderful, and fun, and a great (and important) way to build a community and has also given me my current friends—but sometimes something you make will matter and live on in a way you will never, ever know. and it’s just how it is. it’s part of the fun and it’s part of the charm. it’s just how we work as people.)

[boldlyvoid]

I Can See You | Part Two

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader | Part One

Summary: While away in California working on a case, Aaron needs his Media Liaison's help. When she gets there, she realizes that being in the field is a lot harder than she ever imagined... she leans on Aaron for support so much that when they get home, their relationship is so different from when she left.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (case involving rape and murder) flirting, falling in love, emotional heart-to-heart chats, car sex, public sex, angst, miss understandings. love confessions. making love, unprotected sex, creampies, dirty talk

a/n: thank you @hotchsdoormat for making this post and giving me an idea for this one <;3

word count: 9.1k

Facilities management gets her office completely cleaned out by the end of shift on Friday, they turn the phone in that room back on and set it to her extension. They get a nameplate for her door and slide it into place and then the room is officially hers. 

She sits down at her new desk with a sigh. It smells like paper and dust, the shelves are empty, and it lacks character. She’s requested new, more natural lights, but she knows that changing the fluorescents from blue to yellow is still going to give her a headache. She asked for her own fax machine and this weekend she has to clear out the filing cabinet in order to reorganize it with updated cases. She’s going to have her hands full but that’s good.

Maybe keeping busy will keep her mind off Aaron Hotchner and all the amazing sex she’s been having with him. 

She thinks about him all the way home, in bed before she goes to sleep and even when she wakes up early on Saturday. She makes her way back to the office, it’s only Anderson, a couple of the assistants and herself that are in. She can’t pass Aaron’s office without thinking about how intense her orgasm on his desk was… but she makes it to her own desk with a sigh. 

She’s sitting for maybe 30 seconds when the phone rings. “Agent Y/L/N.” 

“How fast can you be in California?” Aaron asks. “I need you here.” 

“Oh, why?” She can’t help but smile. 

“JJ and Kate are interviewing all the women so that they feel safer and more comfortable but with JJ busy I don’t have anyone here who can speak with the reporters and the Colleges PR people,” he explains. “I really need you here.”

“Uh, yeah, I can come… get Penelope to find me the best ticket out there and I can be at the airport within the hour.” 

“Thank you,” he says with a sigh of relief. “Text me when you get there, let me know when you’re on your way and when you land. I want to know you’re safe.” 

His voice is soft and quiet, he might be alone or at least not around the main team. She loves this voice, he’s so sweet with her sometimes it makes her melt.

“I will,” she smiles. “i’ll see you then.” 

“Bye,” he says before he hangs up. And then he’s gone. 

She brought her go bag home with her last night, repacked it with better outfits and cuter underwear and brought it back to the office with her. This was the last thing she expected when she packed it. She grabs it and her tablet, she has her phone and records an away message for her office phone before she heads out of her office. 

“Anderson,” she calls, getting his attention. “I’m headed to California to help with the media frenzy, I don’t know when I’ll be back. Can you make sure that everything that’s faxed to me gets filed and organized and left on my desk?” 

“Absolutely, have fun,” he says with a roll of his eyes, knowing she’s going to be stressed out more than anything. 

“Can you drive me to the airport?” She asks. 

“I can, I’ll meet you in the garage in 5.” 

She heads right down to Penelope's office and knocks gently before entering. “Did hotch call?” 

“He did, I have your boarding pass here,” she says, reaching to the printer and pulling the paper out as it finishes printing. “This is your fist away case, isn’t it.” 

She nods, “any advice?” 

“Take a moment to yourself whenever you can. It’ll get overwhelming and seeing the horror upfront will suck, so, maybe take this,” Penelope explains, looking through all her little gadgets and toys, she finally picks a little pink unicorn with a clip on it. She reaches out and clips it right onto her go bag. “She’ll keep you company.” 

“Thank you,” she does genuinely appreciate it. 

“The plane leaves in an hour and 45 minutes, I called ahead and said you’re a federal agent and It’s imperative that you make this flight even though you’ll be there in the middle of boarding and they will hold the plane as long as they can for you, so you better skedaddle,” she explains. “Go on, boss lady.” 

“Okay, okay,” she laughs, “I’m going, I’ll probably talk to you later!” 

And with that, she’s gone. Anderson drives her to the airport, she texts Hotch from the car and when she arrives at Ronald Reagan National Airport a half hour later. She still has an hour to spare before taking off, the staff are all incredibly kind to her and she’s handed some complimentary snacks and water at her seat. 

It takes 5 and a half hours for them to fly all the way across the county. She’s on her phone the second she de-boards the plane, she’s about to text Aaron to say she’s arrived when she looks up at the gate and see’s him.

“Hey,” she swoons, she can’t believe he’s there to pick her up. 

“Hi,” he opens his arms and she gladly hugs him. “Garcia told me when you’d be landing and I wasn’t about to let you take another taxi to work.”

She just holds him tighter, appreciating how he smells and how strong he is, she sighs as she pulls back. “I don’t mind… but I’m glad you’re here.” 

He reaches out for her bag, offering to carry it to the car for her. “We’ve got to get back to the precinct. We have a lot to go over, the media is already catching on to this being the second college rape and murder, we need to figure out a way to break the story without causing panic,” he explains as they weasel through the airport traffic, towards his car. 

“I had some time on the plane, I’ve drafted a press release I just need you and the team to approve it and I’m going to send each of the colleges our profile so they can put it on their websites,” she explains. “Who do you want going in front of the cameras?” 

“We can do it together,” he suggests. 

His SUV is parked out front, the lights still going so that he doesn’t get a ticket, he opens the door for her first and then the second door on the passenger side. He puts her bag behind her seat and shuts the door at the same time she shuts her own. He rushes over to the driver's side and gets in quickly, he fastens his seatbelt and keeps the lights on so he can rush out with traffic as fast as possible. 

“You passed your weapons qualifications, right?” He asks, unable to remember off the top of his head. 

“I have… but I don’t carry a weapon.” 

He sighs, “I’m going to give you my second gun when we arrive, I need you to protect yourself. Once we put you on the news you could become one of his targets.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Unfortunately, you’re around his age preference and you’re beautiful, he’s going to be upset hearing the words you use to describe him to the world and he could lash out,” he explains. 

“Do you keep a second gun in your bag or something?” She asks, having no idea he even had one. 

He smirks, “No, I keep it holstered to my ankle. It’s discreet in case I’m in a situation where they’ve taken my weapon and haven’t patted me down, or when I’ve had my Glock knocked out of my hand. I like to be prepared.” 

“God, you’re so hot,” she says under her voice, shaking her head slightly. 

He laughs, “if you say so.” 

“Aaron,” she can’t believe he doesn’t think he’s hot. “You’ve gotta know you’re one of the most handsome men on earth, I mean come on?” 

He blushes, “I don’t have terrible self-esteem, but I’m also not full of myself.” 

“I’m sure as hell not full of you right now, either, but I still think you’re hot,” she teases. 

He laughs, reaching over he places his hand on her thigh, “You’ll be full of me soon enough, sweet thing. We just have to finish this case, first.” 

“They’re going to catch on,” she reminds him. “We have to be careful.” 

“Even if they figure it out, they won’t say anything unless I bring it up first. They’re still pretty respectful,” he assures her. “But I think we can keep it a secret a while longer.” 

“I hope so, 'cause this is fun.” 

“You think so?” 

“I really do,” she smiles at him. She takes ahold of his hand, interlocking their fingers, appreciating this little amount of affection before they arrive and have to act professionally again. 

—

She goes on national TV at 6pm with Aaron by her side while the rest of the team delivers the profile to the local cops. She’s nervous, but she gets through it without a stutter and she even answers a few reporter's questions. They expect the unsub to see the new reports and act out, either by killing again or by sending them a taunt. Either way, it’s going to be an interesting night. 

They get dinner as a team, enjoying takeout in the back room of the UC Davis police department, and she feels like she made it. When she joined the FBI she always wanted to see some action, she wanted to help in a real way and now she was getting her chance. She reviews the case with them, she gets to help Spencer organize the murder board and she even gets to put in her two cents about who she thinks this guy is. The team is proud of her, they praise her contributions and pat her on the back for a job well done with the media. 

The only hard part is seeing all the gore. The photos of the two dead girls are hard to look at, and the rape kit photos of the other 4 girls are even harder to see. They have to live with this for the rest of their lives… all of them are in the police station, too, all waiting for this to be over. They have 4 cots set up, and a police officer sat outside of the room at all times. They’re as protected as can be now, but not when it would’ve counted. It breaks her heart. 

By the time it hits 11pm, nothing has happened, everyone is tired because it’s 2 in the morning back in D.C. so Aaron calls it, “Let's head back to the hotel, they’ll call us if anything happens.” 

“Sounds good,” Derek is the first to agree. 

They all head out to the parking lot, splitting up to ride in two separate SUVs, she sits behind Aaron's seat because of course she’d want to ride with him but she’s not important enough to call shotgun. Spencer’s sitting beside him, tired and quiet, and JJ is beside her. Derek, Kate and Rossi are in the other SUV, just behind them. 

“Do we have another hotel for Y/N?” JJ asks. 

“I called the hotel and had my room switched to a double queen,” Aaron announces. “I thought it would be easier this way, now the bureau won’t get mad at us for changing another $400 to the credit card.” 

It doesn’t look that weird either, with JJ sharing with Kate, Derek sharing with Spencer and the leaders normally alone, partnering with Hotch isn’t too suspicious. She wonders if it’s even true, if he switched the rooms to have two beds or if that’s just what he’s telling people. Either way, they’ll probably end up sleeping in just the one. 

“Smart thinking,” JJ praises him. “I hope you don’t mind his snoring.” 

Y/N laughs, “I’m used to it— my ex snored a lot. Like so bad we took him to get a sleep study done to see if he had sleep apnea or something? But he didn’t, he just snored like mad. It was annoying,” she quickly makes up a story. Covering for the fact she’s already slept beside Hotch before, she heard his snoring. She didn’t mind it, she actually found it cute. But JJ didn’t need to know that.” 

“If you were still with him I’d suggest mouth taping,” Spencer suggests. “I’ve been reading studies about it, apparently it works.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind if I see another dude who snores, thanks.” 

“No problem,” Spencer says with a smile. 

It doesn’t take long for them to arrive, they park, grab their bags and all head inside. Y/N and Aaron head over to the main desk to switch room keys and the others head on up to their floor. The teams on floor 3, Y/N and Aaron on the other hand, they’re on floor 6. It was the only double queen that was available. 

They head to their room quickly, she’s actually exhausted and ready to sleep even if they were joking earlier about having sex again. And if she’s being honest… she’s a little too sad to do anything tonight. 

He opens the door for them, lets her inside and she places her bag right down on the closest mattress. She sighs as she undoes the zip and searches for her sleep shirt. 

“You tired?” Aaron asks. 

She nods, placing her shirt on the bed, she kicks off her shoes and starts to undress. “I’m so ready to go to sleep.” 

Aaron places his bag down on the other bed, also searching for something to wear but he turns back to her just in time to see her take her shirt off. He smiles at her, she’s just in normal underwear this time, nothing too fancy and cute because she didn’t expect to see him today. “You’re beautiful.” 

She can’t help but smile, “Thanks…” She tosses on her sleep shirt and takes her bra off from inside the shirt. She unclips the back, slips it off both arms and then pulls it out from under, putting it into her bag right away. She pushes her skirt down, takes off her nylons and shoves them in the bag too. 

Once she’s done changing, she grabs her makeup bag and heads into the bathroom to take off all her makeup. Aaron shows up beside her, in just his boxers and a shirt as well, ready to brush his teeth for the night. They get ready for bed silently, both clearly exhausted. He finishes brushing his teeth and watches as she takes off her makeup and applies her nighttime moisturizer, mesmerized by her beauty, he smiles at her through the mirror. 

“did you want to sleep with me?” 

“Like sex?” 

He laughs, “No, I mean do you want to sleep beside me?” 

“Oh, yeah, I’d like that… but I’m not in the mood at all after everything today.”

“Understandable,” he wraps his arm around her and rests his chin on her shoulder, staring at her through the mirror still. “You did a wonderful job today.” 

“Thank you,” she leans into him with a sigh. “can we go to bed now?” 

“Yeah, come on,” he takes her by the hand and walks with her back to the room. “Pick a bed.” 

She picks the one closer to the window, gets in on her normal side and lays back against the pillow. Aaron takes a moment to plug in his phone, moves his bag over to their spare bed and then he turns off the lights. He gets into bed beside her and snuggles in real close, resting his cheek on her chest and his arm slung around her stomach. 

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he whispers. “I slept like a baby on Thursday night.” 

“I know, I did too, I didn’t even hear you leave…”

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes again. “I had to be there when Jack woke up 'cause Jess had an early morning meeting with her boss, I kissed you before I left but you didn’t even stir.” 

Her heart melts at the thought of him kissing before slipping out, they had such a wonderful night that night, it’s hard to believe it was even real. “Hey, you’re a good dad. I’m never going to get upset with you for wanting to spend time with your son. I bet he’s incredible, too.” 

“He is, he’s doing this summer gifted program and at the end, he’ll have a certificate that he can put in his college applications, he wants to be an engineer,” he shares, pride just spilling out of him. “He’s so amazing.” 

“He gets it from his dad,” she teases. 

“It’s his mom's side, Haley was always good with science and math, her sister Jess is a computer engineer, and their mom was a nurse for 50 years,” he shares. He’s never opened up like this before. 

“What did your parents do?” She asks, taking advantage of how soft and honest he is late at night, she wants to know all about him. 

“My mom stayed at home with us and took care of the house, my dad was a defence attorney. He was good at telling a lie.”

“Oh,” she can tell there’s issues there. “And you have a brother, right?” 

He nods, “Same dad, different moms, but my mom raised him. My dad got his assistant pregnant and she was going to give the baby up so my dad convinced her to let us keep him.” 

“Wow… that’s intense.” 

He just sighs, “Yeah, it sucked being related to him.” 

“I’m sorry—

“No, no, you don’t have to be, it’s been a long time since he died, I’m not haunted by him or anything, I’m good with where I’m at in life… but you, you’ve never told me why you joined the FBI, or really anything personal?”

“There’s not really much to tell. I went to college and got a degree in criminal justice and took media and communications for fun and then applied to the academy and somehow made it to your team. I guess I’m just lucky,” she shrugs, not thinking too much of it. 

“Your grades were amazing and you were in the top 5 of your class at the academy, it certainly wasn’t luck,” he assures her. “You were the best pick for the team, Cruz was so excited to add you after he saw your application. We were severely lacking without a communications liaison, having you on the team has been so nice… and not just because we’re sleeping together.”

She laughs, “This is a bonus.” 

He sits up slightly to look at her in the darkness, “I think you were right before… about me being lonely. I didn’t realize how much I missed this.” 

She leans in and captures his lips against her own, sharing a sweet kiss with him. “I’m glad you did something about it. I thought with your job, with how often you see power dynamics gone wrong, you would never sleep with a younger co-worker.” 

“I didn’t think I would either,” he admits. He rests his head back down on her, caressing his cheek along her shirt. “It's not because you’re younger that I like you… I can’t even really place why I do. I don’t want to sound crazy, but something more powerful than your looks or your age drew me in. You’re so smart, you’re incredibly kind. This just feels right, doesn’t it?” 

“Aaron Hotchner, don’t make me cry,” she tries to make a joke or else she really will cry. 

“Sorry, I just hope you know this isn’t just a fling. I’m not going to get what I want and toss you aside. I thoroughly enjoy your company, if I met you anywhere else, I’d still want to be with you. It’s just tough when I’m your boss and you’re my employee. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have asked to keep this a secret. I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed or hiding you. I just want to keep this as pure and just between us as possible. If I file the paperwork and we make it known with Cruz, then Penelope will see it in the file, and she’ll tell Derek and you know how they are. They teased you because I was careless and left a mark where they could see. I don’t want you to go through that. I don’t want people to think you’re doing better than them just because we have sex. I don’t want anyone to diminish your work simply because you’re close to me.” 

“The fact that you care, like genuinely, wholeheartedly care, means a lot. Not a lot of men would think this far ahead or want to protect their mistress,” she hates to use the word, but that’s how she feels. “I know I’m special to you and to this team… and it feels so good to know that. It’s all I wanted for so long, I have tried so hard to be good at everything I do, I try too hard sometimes. It feels so wonderful to know I’m appreciated for my hard work.” 

“you’re not my mistress,” he says, rolling onto his back and pulling her over to cuddle into him instead. “I’d have to have a wife for that.” 

She wants to ask what they are then. But she can’t bring the words to her mouth, they stay in her mind, rattling around and wreaking havoc. “Still, thank you.” 

He kisses the top of her head, resting his lips there longer than she thought he would. He runs his hand up and down her back in a gentle motion, soothing her. “You’re welcome.” 

He’s so warm and delicate with his touches, it makes her even sleepier. Her eyes get heavy to the point she can’t keep them open anymore, and before she knows it, she’s sound asleep against his chest. She twitches a few times as she falls deeper, her breathing changes, and she gets heavier, too. 

He knows she’s asleep now. Knows she can’t hear him. So he says it. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart… I love you.” 

—

Neither one of them set an alarm last night before bed. So, at 7:30am, someone knocks on their hotel door. They’re cuddled into each other, spooning, facing the window when Aaron hears it. He’s quick to rub his eyes and get out of bed, heading towards the door. He squints as he looks through the peephole to see Spencer, fully dressed and ready for the day. 

“Did something happen?” 

Spencer looks at him and then into the room to see Y/N sound asleep in her bed… but the other bed hasn’t been slept in. Not a crease to be found on the comforter, his eyes go wide but he keeps this newfound revelation to himself. “Uh, yeah, it’s almost 10 in Virginia, Penelope got a CODIS match on a set of fingerprints we picked up at the last murder, the guy's name is Michael Hawthorn, we’re just waiting on warrants to go through the courts. We’re supposed to meet with the state police in 45 minutes about it all.”

“Shit,” Aaron realizes they’ve slept in, “okay, you all can head in with Derek, Y/N and I will be leaving in a few minutes.” 

“Sounds good…” 

“Don’t,” Aaron points at him. “It’s not what it looks like. She was having a hard time dealing with guilt after speaking with the victims yesterday, I offered her some comfort, and we fell asleep in the same bed. Nothing more.” 

“Okay,” Spencer takes his word for it. “I’ll keep this between us… just be glad it was me who drew the short straw to come up and get you.” 

“Thank you, Reid,” he gives him a small smile. “Seriously, we’ll be leaving shortly.” 

She wakes up to all the talking, she sits up and rubs her eyes just as Aaron closes the door again, “what’s going on?” 

“We never set an alarm,” he simplifies it. “The team is headed to the precinct right now, they have a CODIS match on a fingerprint.” 

“Oh, shit, okay,” she gets out of bed quickly and grabs her bag, “can I use the bathroom first?” 

“Go for it,” he doesn’t mind, heading into his own go bag to get ready for the day. 

He wears the same suit pants and jacket, he gets a new dress shirt and tie from his bag and quickly puts it all on. He adds deodorant and a little cologne, he combs his hair and waits for the bathroom to be free again so he can brush his teeth. He holsters his gun to his belt last and checks his pocket to make sure he still has his wallet, badge and cuffs on his person. 

When she comes out, she’s in a pants suit as well, his gun holstered to her hip and everything. She looks amazing. He looks her up and down quickly, wishing they had more time so he could properly show he how much he likes this outfit, but they don’t. “Wow…” 

“Oh, hush,” she says with a smile, clearly appreciative. “Finish getting ready, I’m going to head downstairs and get us some coffee from the continental breakfast and I’ll meet you by the car.” 

She goes to walk by him but he stops her, pulling her in by her suit jacket until their chests touch, he takes her jaw in his hand and directs her attention to his eyes. “If I don’t get a chance to tell you again today, just know I think you’re beautiful.” 

He leans in and kisses her, too. She pulls away with a smile, she’s never kissed him with 2 days of scruff on his face, before, so it tickles her upper lip. “Go finish getting ready, the faster we get this guy, the faster we can go home and spend some time together…” 

“Okay,” he agrees but steals one last kiss, he lightly smacks her ass as she starts to walk away, “I’m going to show you what this little number does to me when we get home.” 

She just laughs, “Oh, I can’t wait… but we have a killer to catch, so chop-chop.” She grabs her bags and heads out after that. 

He’s quick to brush his teeth, check himself in the mirror and then he’s out too, barely 5 minutes behind her. He rushes down to the car, only to see Y/N has dropped her bags and the coffee, she’s got someone at gunpoint beside the car.

He drops his bag too, raising his go as he makes his way closer. “What’s going on?” 

“It’s the college rapist,” she says through gritted teeth. “I know those eyes from the drawing. He was waiting here by the car, he—

“I just wanted to ask for your number, you’re pretty!” The guy cuts her off, hands in the air, he looks scared. “I’m not a rapist!” 

“What’s your name?” Aaron asks. 

“Mike!”

“Mike what?” He asks again, getting closer and lowering his weapon so the man trusts him a bit. 

“Michael Hawthorn,” he states his full name. “I promise, I was just walking to my own car, thought she looked pretty, that’s all man.” 

He knows he’s lying. He knows this is the man the team is currently looking for. Maybe sleeping in was a good thing. Giving Y/N his second gun was even better. He can’t believe she recognized his eyes from the sketch of the unsub. She was quick to draw her gun, quick to defend herself, too. 

Aaron drops his gun, reaches out for the guy and gives him a fake smile, “I get it…” and then he has him pinned to the SUV and starts to cuff him. “But, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me any further?” 

“I didn’t do anything!!” 

“Call Morgan,” he says to Y/N, “tell him we have Michael Hawthorn in custody.” 

“Aaron… we don’t have enough evidence,” she worries, holstering her gun again. 

“We do. That CODIS match that Penelope got this morning, the fingerprints matched a Michael Hawthorn. They’re about to issue a warrant for your arrest, anyway,” he explains. “You just couldn’t handle the fact that she went on the national news and started talking shit about you, could you? You’re such a weak little man you have to rape girls to feel control. You have to corner them in a parking lot to feel the power. You’re just a loser and you’re going to prison.” 

Y/N steps away and takes her phone out, she calls Derek right away and tells him everything. Hotch still has him pinned to the SUV, waiting for the inevitable slue of cop cars to come rushing to the scene, to take this man into their custody. 

Michael knows he fucked up. He got cocky, he thought he couldn’t get caught but here he is, cuffed and pinned to a fed’s SUV. “What were you even planning to do? Just talk to me?” 

“I’m not speaking without my lawyer,” he says. It’s probably the smartest decision he’s made today. 

“Derek said they are just waiting on the judge to pass the search warrant, it should happen in the next few minutes. That includes his car, which I imagine is here?” She explains. 

Hotch pats him down and finds his keys in his pocket. He hands them over to her. “When it goes through you can have the honours.” 

It doesn’t take long for them to hear the sirens approaching, and once they’re heard, they’re seen just as quickly. 4 cop cars and Derek's SUV come whipping around the corner and into the small hotel parking lot, surrounding them. They hand the unsub off to the police, Aaron advises them that he’s already been read his rights and they take him off to the jail to be booked. 

“how’d this happen?” Derek asks. 

“I came down to get us some coffee before we head out and he was waiting for me, he walked up to me and said ‘You’re just as pretty as you are on TV’ and I saw his eyes were just like the sketch that Amy drew, so I pulled my weapon and luckily Aaron was right behind me and was able to get his name and cuff him,” she explains. 

“if it wasn’t for Spencer telling me the guy's name, I would’ve just told him to fuck off,” Aaron adds.

“Why were you guys late to begin with?” JJ asks, it’s honestly unheard of for Hotch to be late. 

“We were talking when I was getting ready for bed and I never set an alarm,” he admits. 

“I was having a hard time sleeping knowing I get to live the rest of my life without the trauma these girls will have for the rest of their life,” she adds. It’s more than she told Aaron yesterday, but it’s the most believable because it’s true. 

Derek pulls her in for a side hug, “This job sucks sometimes but you saved a few more girls from going through it with your quick thinking… I didn’t even know you carried a gun?” 

“It’s Aarons…” she explains as she pulls away, referencing the small revolver at her hip. “He had a feeling this guy would see me on the news and contact me. He was right.” 

“He’s hardly ever wrong,” Kate teases. Having been on the team just a few months now, she knows everyone on the team is so good at their job, they could’ve all predicted this. 

Once the warrants go through, Y/N and Aaron check the unsubs car and the others head back to his house. She finds his rape kit but nothing else. “His souvenirs must be back at his apartment,” Y/N sighs, shaking her head. “I can’t believe how fast you got him pinned to the car?” 

“Why?” Aaron smirks. “You know I’m always going to protect you, right?” 

She nods, stepping in closer to him so none of the crime scene cops hear, “Yeah, I know… but it was hot. Like, really hot…” 

He takes off his plastic gloves and looks over to the cops, “are you guys good here without us?” 

“Yep, we’re basically done, we just need to take some photos and get his car towed,” the main detective explains. “Thanks for bringing him in, the colleges are going to be pleased to know their girls are a bit safer now.” 

“Anytime,” Hotch waves them off and has Y/N follow him back over to the SUV. 

She gets buckled into the passage side, watches him put on his seatbelt and throws the car in reverse, he peels out of the parking lot and she thinks they’re going to catch up with the others at the unsubs house… instead, he takes them down some random street and parks them in the ally behind an unoccupied storefront. “How hot?” 

“What?” She laughs. 

“How hot was me throwing that guy up against the SUV and cuffing him?” 

Heat rushes through her body as she realizes what’s happening, “Aaron…” 

“Answer me.” 

She unbuckles her seatbelt and kneels on the seat, unbuttoning her suit pants, “You know, if you’re going to be so sexy on the scene you should at least do it on days when I’m wearing a skirt.” 

His laugh is deep and dark, he undoes his belt and pushes the seat back so there’s enough room between his chest and the steering wheel for her to sit. He watches her push her pants down and as soon as just the one leg is free he hauls her into his lap. He helps her out of her suit jacket and tosses it onto the passenger seat, “I told you this outfit was doing something for me.” 

“Show me,” she begs. “You said you’d show me?” 

With one hand on her hip, he pushes her button-up shirt up to see what she’s wearing. It’s a 1 piece of lingerie, white to hide under her shirt and lacy as hell. “I will show you…. Just let me appreciate this a bit. I know you spent too much money to get these for me, I’m going to make it worth it, baby.” 

He doesn’t want to unbutton the whole shirt, he wants her to still be partially dressed if they get caught… he knows they won't but he’s careful, nonetheless. He unbuttons the first 4 buttons, allowing the shirt to cup her boobs. He leans in and kisses her neck, one hand on her back, helping her arch so he can press kisses down her chest as she grinds against him. 

“Please, Aaron,” she pleads. “Just move it to the side and fuck me.” 

He hums against her, “Take me out?” He whispers, moving up to kiss her on the mouth again. She reached between them, pulled his zipper apart and reached into his boxers. He was hard, so hard that as soon as he was free his erection slapped against his stomach and he moaned into her mouth. She stroked him gently, causing him to buck his hips up into her, clashing his teeth against hers as the kiss gets rougher. 

He pushes her panties to the side, and brushes past her clit which makes her gasp. Not wasting any time, Y/N moved back so she could angle her hips over him and slid right onto his cock. The feeling of being filled and the grip Aaron had on her waist was mesmerizing. Aaron took her face in his hands and pulled her in for another kiss, it wasn’t as rough as before but still full of want. 

Y/N started to rock her hips forward, picking up a rhythm as their mouths moved together as well. He’d never felt this way while having sex with another person, maybe it was just really good, or maybe this is what making love felt like… even if they were just having a quickie in a borrowed FBI SUV. 

Aaron’s never felt this many emotions during sex, never once had he got butterflies thinking about sleeping with someone, let alone had his stomach flip when he turned a corner and merely saw someone… Something about Y/N and all the things they did together was different. Even a week into sleeping with each other, it was all so different than any relationship he’d ever had with anyone in his life. 

He really loved her, he was sure of it. 

That thought rocked though his body like someone had punched him in the gut. He stopped moving and pulled away from Y/N’s mouth. Eyes wide and staring at him.

“What? Are you okay?” She asked in shock.

He blinked a few times and shook his head, “No, yeah, sorry I thought I heard something sorry.”

She kissed him again, lightly this time. “We can stop if you want?”

Aaron simply gripped her hips tighter, bit his lip while looking her dead in the eyes, “I really don’t want to stop.” 

“Good.” She moaned, pulling him in again and kissing him some more.

She moved one hand to be in the back little tuft of hair at the base of his neck, tugging gently. 

Y/N could stay in these motions for hours, the feeling of Aaron inside her, lightly hitting her G-spot. The feeling of his big hand on her hip as the other roamed around to the front to rub her clit, getting her closer to the finish. It was the best pleasure one could experience. All building to one massive crescendo. 

Y/N felt herself getting close, her hips bucking more erratically. Aaron’s breath on her mouth was a sign he was feeling it too, his breathing had picked up when he started to get close the last time as well. 

She breathes heavily into his mouth, moaning slightly as everything builds and builds and builds and “Oh,” she tosses her head back and rides out her orgasm over him. 

Her cunt flutters, sucking him in even deeper, he’s not that far behind her. He buries his face in her neck and sloppily kisses her, he grips her hips with both hands now and uses all his strength to keep her bouncing on his cock. He mumbles against her neck, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby, oh my god, I’m right there….” 

“Please sir, cum in me, fill me up, I want to go back to work and feel you slowly dripping out of me for the rest of the day,” she eggs him on. 

He groans, deep from within himself, he had no idea something like that would get him going but here he is, finishing deep inside her. He kisses her neck again, up to her ear and then grips the back of her head, pushing her lips against his own. It’s hot and heavy again, still inside her, he wishes he could stay in her all day long… but then his phone rings. Bringing an end to their fun.  

He pulls back and brushes her hair off her face, looking deep in her eyes, “You’re nasty… I love it.” 

She simply smirks, “I know.” 

She reaches into his suit jacket and takes his phone, answering for him. “SSA Aaron Hotchner's Phone…”

He can’t believe she, answering his phone for him while sitting on his softening dick. He starts rebutting her shirt for her, pressing a kiss to the centre of her chest before doing the last button up 

“Yeah, he’s just driving right now, yep, sounds good, Derek. We’ll Meet you on the tarmac,” she smiles, hanging up on him. “They found his trophies, Hawthorn is royally fucked, now.”

“Good, now let’s get you home.” 

—

Agreeing to go to the bar after work with the main team wasn’t her smartest decision. You see, once Derek Morgan gets a couple drinks in his system, he’s even more of a teasing little shit than normal. 

So far, she’s been able to avoid his questions, he’s been kidding around with Penelope, asking JJ and Will about what it's like to have a sex life with a kid in the home and even teasing Kate about getting knocked up around Valentine's Day… Savannah seven shows up around the time gets a 3rd drink and she thinks the coast is clear, he’ll be too busy with the love of his life to ask Y/N any questions. 

She was wrong. 

“So,” he announces, letting everyone know he’s about to go off on another tangent. “Tell us about this new thing you’ve got going on, who is he… or is it a she?” 

She just laughs, “I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“Ooo so some random dude gave you a hickie on a Thursday night?” 

“What is with you and making the whole Thursday night thing such a big deal? I had free time after work, sue me!” 

“I’m not trying to be mean, I just wanna know what’s happening in your life! You’re hot and young, you’ve gotta be doing something fun with your time.” 

“You’re a poet,” she teases him for rhyming. “But no, it’s nothing serious. It's… a situationship at best. We fuck to blow off steam, it’s nothing more.” 

She hopes that that will get him off her case, she says exactly what she knows he wants to hear and nothing more… but then she turns to Aaron. He’s taking the last sip of his drink, he frowns and checks his phone. “Excuse me, everyone, I have to head home, Jack needs me.” 

“Oh, yeah, no problem boss man, have a good night,” Derek taps his shoulder as Aaron pushes through the crowd. 

Her heart breaks. She fucked up. Spencer looks at her, knowingly. He’s probably the only one on the team who’s clued in on them sleeping together, and it’s only because he was the one who came to their hotel room to fetch them during the case. 

“Um…” she’s so thrown now, she just stares at the door feeling like shit. “I think I should go home, too.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Derek rolls his eyes. “Go get dicked-down.” 

“Derek,” she stares him down, trying to stand her ground. “Please stop. I don’t like when you do this.” 

“Okay,” he backs down. “I’m sorry, I was just teasing—

“If it’s just you laughing, it’s not funny,” she snaps back. “Please, stop asking about it, stop teasing, stop digging. I’m not someone who likes to share.” 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, genuinely,” he truly means it. 

“I’ve gotta go,” she grabs her purse and all but runs out the door. She runs down the sidewalk all the way to the parking lot and blocks the exit so he can’t drive out. “Aaron!” 

He rolls the window down, yelling, “are you crazy?! I could’ve hit you?” 

She rushes around to the passenger side and reefs on the door, “Open up!” He clicks the unlock button and she gets in quickly. Cars honk behind him so he has to keep driving, rolling out onto the road, he follows traffic out. “I’m so sorry!” 

“No, it’s fine, I get it—

“No. You don’t. I only said that because then they’d stop asking about it! You’re more to me than some stupid guy that I just fuck for fun, I promise you, you mean so so so much to me.” 

He pulls the car over to the side of the road and looks at her. “How much?” 

“I-I… Aaron?” She pleads with her eyes, not wanting to embarrass herself by saying it if he doesn’t love her back. 

“Say it.” 

She opens her mouth, trying to say it but she can’t. 

“Fine,” he shakes his head and gives in. “I get it if you don’t feel the same but this isn’t just sex for me. I only started it as a sex thing because I couldn’t handle asking you out on a real date and romancing you and you just getting bored of me… I thought if we had sex, maybe, just maybe, you’d love me back too.” 

“Aaron—

“It’s fine if you—

“I do love you!” She shouts. “I love you so much it makes me feel fucking insane! I never imagined you loving me back…” 

“Why not?” He doesn’t understand that. “You’re everything to me? I haven’t felt this way about someone since I was a teenager. When I thought my first wife was going to be the love of my life…” 

She softens up, completely, looking at him with her whole heart in her expression, “Oh, Aaron, I-I… I’m sorry, I just never thought you’d love me, you’re so important and I’m just—

“You’re a crustal member of my team. Without you, we’d all be lost… but you’re so much more than just the media girl,” he admits. “When I rehired for that position I hoped I’d have someone who would help me but you’ve done so much more than that. You make me feel special. You make me feel handsome again… you make me feel loved and appreciated and like I’m good. I don’t often feel like a good person. You make me not only feel like I’m worthy of happiness but you bring me so so much. I love you. I don’t care if that affects how we do our jobs. I love you. And I don’t know if I can stop.” 

She unclips her seatbelt and reaches over, cupping his face in her hands, “I don’t ever want you to.” 

He presses their lips together a bit roughly and she smiles into the kiss, “take me home,” she whispers against his lips. “Please?” 

“Put your seatbelt back on,” he teases as he pulls away. He makes sure she’s safely buckled in before he merges back out with the traffic. He moves his light hand over to rest on her leg, rubbing circles with his thumb, he just likes to touch her all the time. 

She reaches down to the button of her suit pants and pops it, she pulls at the fabric making the zipper hiss as it’s ripped apart. She grips his wrist and redirects his hand into her panties. Sometime between the flight home and heading to the bar, she changed her underwear… what she was wearing got a little ruined from their previous antics in the car, but she didn’t care. 

“Eager, are we?” 

She nods, “Please?” She holds his wrist with her right hand and wraps her left around his bicep, holding onto him as his finger makes contact with her clit once more. “Oh, thank you,” she moans, relaxing into her seat finally. 

He smirks, watching the road but he can see her head lulled back in his peripheral vision. “Let me hear you, baby, it’s just us…” 

“I’ve missed your fingers,” she admits through bated breath. “Oh my god, Aaron,” she pushes her hips up into his touch for more, feeling him press into her harder, he uses his forefingers to rub her clit now. She’s so fucking wet he can hear it alongside her whimpers and moans for more.

“You’re just so desperate for me,” he teases her.  

“Feels, oh god, feels so good, I— oh,” she bucks her hips up against his hand he knows she’s close. She grips his bicep harder, “I wanna cum, please? Please? Can I cum?” 

He smirks, turning onto her street, he could either let her cum now or make her hold off until he’s inside her… “cum for me, baby,” he lets her go. She’s going to be so much more pliant and overstimulated once he gets her through the door, now.

Barely over her orgasm, she points at her usual parking spot and tells him to take it. He pulls in and parks, he takes his hand out of her pants and sucks his fingers clean. She doesn’t even bother buttoning her pants back up, she simply throws off her seatbelt and opens the door. He follows her lead, into the building and towards the elevator. 

Once the doors are closed he lunges for her, kissing her deeply he cups his hand at the back of her head to protect her as he slams her up against the wall. Her hands go inside his suit jacket, scratching at his skin through his dress shirt. The elevator dings on her floor, opening its doors, they pull apart and he holds her hand as she drags him down the hallway towards her apartment. She digs her keys from her purse and unlocks the door as quickly as possible. 

Once again, he gets her inside, she tosses her things to the ground and has her turn to push him up against the wall. He pushes her suit jacket off her shoulders and she undoes his belt, pulling it through the loops and then she tosses it to the floor beside her purse. He starts to walk he backwards, still making out, he follows the floor plan of her apartment and leads her towards what he assumes is her bedroom. She simply pulls away and laughs, “Taking me to do laundry?” 

“Sorry, I don’t know where we’re going?” He laughs, too. Smiling at her, he keeps both his hands on her hips. “Show me the way?” 

She takes his hand and tugs him the other way down the hall, into her bedroom she flicks the light on and feels a bit embarrassed, “Sorry it’s a mess in here.” 

“It’s fine… I’m going to end up making a mess of you anyway,” Aaron teases. 

He pulls her in close again and starts unbuttoning her dress shirt. She does the same for him, pushing both his shirt and his jacket to the floor once she’s done. She takes her own shirt off too and then starts pushing her pants down. She kicks her shoes off and once she’s in just her underwear she gets into bed. She watches him kick his shoes off too, he makes eye contact with her as he pushes his pants and boxers to the floor. 

Oh, she’s getting ruined tonight. 

He gets on the bed between her legs, “come on, get naked with me,” he says as he reached for her panties. He tugs them off and she reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra. As soon as she’s completely naked, he hovers over her, and runs his hand from her cheek down her neck and between her breasts, “you’re so beautiful.” 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she teases, leaning in to steal a kiss. 

He drops his chest against hers, wraps his arms around her and completely engulfs her with himself. She wraps her legs around him, grinding his hardening cock against her core. Holding his face in her hands. He trails his hands over her stomach, along her sides up to cup her boobs. He grinds his hips against hers, cock pushing between her folds the head collides with her clit, making them moan into each other's mouths.  

“Aaron baby,” she runs her fingers through his hair, “make love to me?” 

He grips himself at the base of his cock and taps the head against her clit with a smirk, she moans slightly, reaching out for him to come back to her, equally just as needy as him. 

He slips into her slowly, pushing in little by little while his tongue explores her mouth. With her hands now in his hair, his all over her body, she wraps her legs around him as he bottoms out. He pulls his lips away just enough to whisper, “I love you.” He kisses her jaw, up to her ear as he starts to thrust lightly. 

“I love you,” she moans back, grinding up against him. His pelvis rubs against her clit, he’s so deep inside of her, he’s so tender with her and her body. He wraps an arm around her, under her back, and the other cups the back of her head while he kisses her neck, fucking into her with so much passion she could cry. 

Other than their subtle moans and the headboard hitting the wall again, they’re mostly quiet. She’s so close, her stomach is a flutter of fireflies, twinkling as they swirl around inside of her. “Please?” She mumbles, gripping his back like her life depends on it, “fuck, go a little harder, please?” 

He hums against her neck before pulling back, he settles on his knees, spreading hers apart as he fucks into her with more intent. He shoves a pillow under her lower back, getting even deeper inside than before while at a beautiful angle. He reaches between them, rubbing her clit for added pleasure and boy, does she love it. Her back arches and she writhes in the sheets with only one thought in her mind. 

“I love you, oh I love you,” she reminds him. “Right there, please, baby?” 

“Cum for me, my love,” he can’t help but smile, the sight unfolding under him was a dream come true. 

Her orgasm hits her suddenly, spreading through her body while she shook and trembled under him. “Holy shit,” he stumbled forward, resting against her again as he rutted his hips into her with vigour. She wrapped herself around him again, relishing in the pleasure that filled her body.

His rhythm falters, “I love you, baby, god, I’m— oh fuck, I love you,” he pants against her neck buried so deep inside of her, he lets go and finishes with a deep groan. 

He slumps against her, fucked out and exhausted. She holds him close, running her hands up and down his back. “I love you… I’m so glad I can say it now.” 

“I’m glad too,” he smiles against her. He snuggles in, not resting as much weight on her but still there, on her chest and still inside her. “I’m going to tell you all the time.” 

“Should we go see Cruz tomorrow?” She suggests. “I don't think I can keep it a secret anymore.” 

He nods, “Yeah… and you can tell everyone when you want to. I want you to be respected no matter what.” 

“Which is why I love you,” she teases. 

“We’re going to be okay,” he assures her. “I know it.” 

“I do too.” 

@dim-i-try @mrs-ssa-hotch 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtlee @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86 @buckleyhans

[traegorn]

Y'ever just think... wow... that's too many computers?

I have seven, not including my tablets.

Five of them are laptops.

Two of those laptops are Macs -- my current Mac laptop (an M2 Macbook Air) which I use every day, and my old laptop (a late-2011 13" MacBook Pro) which after some upgrades (and the removal of its spicy pillow battery years ago) currently runs as a backup server, print server, and network drive.

Then there are the three HP laptops.

One of them I technically don't own, as it's my work machine. It's just running Windows 10 -- nothing special -- and it works. Then I have my two fuckaround machines -- a 15 year old 17" 'desktop replacement' that originally ran Vista but currently runs Linux Mint (and we used for years as the registration computer at No Brand Con). Then I have a 14" laptop that's "current" (in the sense that you can buy it right now for less than $200 at Walmart) that I got for free -- which dual boots into Linux Mint and Windows 11.

And then there are the non-laptops -- my M1 Mac Mini (my primary production workstation for art and podcasts) and my non-laptop fuckaround machine -- a Raspberry Pi 400 running Raspberry Pi OS.

And I was realizing today... is that too many? That might be too many.

[tassjis]

A list of objects and technologies created by Myne

The gremlin has been busy. Anything red was created by another, but without Myne creating something else, the creator would not have made it, so Myne's name is not listed as the creator but Myne was the reason it was made. Anything blue was improved upon

VEHICLES

A horse-drawn carriage with suspension

FURNITURE

Spring mattress spring upholstery - Zach

COSMETICS + ACCESSORIES

Rinsham - all-in-one shampoo Hair Ornaments Librarians armband Tote bag - improved

FASHION

Bubble skirts Halter-top dress Tie-dye - previously existed Wax Dyeing Stencil Dyeing Water ripple embroidery

EVENTS

Tasting party Charity Concert Dying competition

TOYS

Karuta Reversi Chess Playing Cards Baby Rattle Educational baby toys - such as shaped blocks and holes implied other toys

FOOD - Ingredients and condiments -

Compote Tanieh Cream Gelatin Gnocchi Gratin Herb Dressing Lage Sauce (Basil Sauce) Mayonnaise Yeast Pasta Ponzu Sauce Pomme sauce Rumptopf Rutreb Jam White sauce

- Savoury -

Capellini Caprese Salad Carbonara Consomme Soup Double Consomme Soup - Leise Crispy-Crispy Launeide and Sujaru Salad (Vegetable Salad) Crun-Crun Ju-Ju Farba (Chicken Salad) Cappellini Fikken - improved Fluffy Bread Sandwich - Improved with fluffy bread Hamburg Steak Lasagne Macaroni Gratin Osso Buco - Later improved by Leise Parue Burger Parue Okonomiyaki Pizza Potatoffel salad Pomme Soup Risotto Steamed Potatoffel Steamed Taschitz (chicken) Quiche French Toast Salted Cucumber imitation

- Sweet -

Bavarois Cookies Langues De Chat Crepe Fallfold Tart - Nicola Ice Cream Mille Crepe Mousse Panna Cotta Paru Cake Pound Cake Pudding Short Cake Tiramisu Tanier Cream/Mont Blanc

TOOLS

Chopsticks Clothes Hanger - improved Hairpin Herbal Candles Crochet hook Hand pump Hide Glue Steamer Precision Knife Roller Starch Glue Metal letter types Round Bell Safety Pin

MACHINES

Waxing Machine Letterpress Machine

PRINTING TYPES

Woodblock printing Stencil printing Letterpress printing

STATIONARY

Clay Tablet Mokkan Faux Papyrus Dipitch Dipitch Stylus Soot pencil Linseed and soot Ink Colour Ink Folders

- Paper -

Plant Paper (Volrin paper) Conjoining Paper (Nenseb paper) Effon (Music) Paper Fireproof Paper (Trombe paper) Rinfin Paper - Illgner Wax paper (Wax/Rinfin paper) Trauperle Paper -Illgner

- Magic Paper -

Enhanced Conjoining paper - Drewanchel Spellcasting Nenseb paper (Nenseb/Trombe with magic circle) Spellcasting effon paper (Effon/Trombe with chant) Maximum Quality Fey Paper (Effon/Trombe/Nenseb) improved by Ferdinand

MAGIC TOOLS

Music Box with Effon paper (technically made by Ehrenfest students) Drivable Highbeast Rainbow Highbeast Stenluke Disappearing Ink Plush Toy with recorded messages Magic tool to send books back to their shelves

MAGIC

Water Gun Copy and Place

KNOWLEDGE

Salting Out Lace knitting Written Calculation Decorative shaped vegetables Origami Introductory system Tickets Red seal Trading Graphs Myne Decimal System Rosemyne Magic Compression Method Female Crest Copyright royalties Questionnaire survey

PRINTED PRODUCTS

Black and white picture Book Children's Bible - Supreme God and the Eternal Five Children's Bible - Spring Subordinates Children's Bible - Summer Subordinates Children's Bible - Autumn Subordinates Children's Bible - Winter Subordinates Story Books Knight's Tale (short stories 1-3) - Compiled and translated Knight's Tale (short stories 4-5) - Compiled and translated Mother's Bedtime Stories Collection Unnamed Operation Grimm Book (Groschel) - Lutz Etiquette and Noble Euphamisms Book 1 - Fran Etiquette and Noble Euphamisms Book 2 - Fran Rozemyne's Recipe collection Knight's stories - Elvira Royal Academy stories - Elvira Royal Academy love stories - Elvira A history of Dunklefelger - Compiled and translated Knight stories Ahrensbach - Compiled Ditter Story - Roderick Royal Academy love stories 2 - Elvira The tale of Fernstine Part 1 - 3 - Elvira Sheet Music Concert programs Accounting report Printed illustrations (created to promote a knight's tale) Ferdinand illustations Cinderella Romance Novel (pornographic smut)

Songs

Tulip Anime Song Song for the concert Movie theme song "Under the chestnut tree" A hymn for Eglantine (requested by Anastasius) A couple classical songs

[bomberqueen17]

sewing other things

OK so. I have talked about the Loftus Bralette so much on here that one could be forgiven for chuckling gently when i said I should sew other things. But I do actually have several other projects I've been wanting to work on. And i have actually cut some of them out.

Also when I was last at the farm my niece brought me some of her t-shirts and said "I really like this one can we cut it apart and re-sew it bigger so I can still wear it", and I remembered that her BFF's mom, who works at the farm twice a week doing the books and managing store inventory, owns a serger she didn't know how to thread, so I texted her to ask if I could borrow it and indeed she had accidentally unthreaded it and there was a stuck lever and needed me to fix it anyway, and maybe I mentioned that on here but I did actually make my niece a couple of tunics while I was last at the farm. Including hand-sewing a whole bunch of details on the last one while the family was driving on a road trip one weekend.

So I brought all that stuff home with me and was hoping to get to work on it this week. All I've sewn has been the bralettes but I still have today. We'll see what I can get done.

I measured Farmkid and she's ten years old so her shape isn't the same as that of an adult woman, but she's five feet two and like 130 lbs, and some of her measurements put her in a women's size 12. So. She expressed interest in a garment I wear frequently, a Studio Tunic from Sew Liberated. I printed off the pattern in a size 12 and have assembled it, but I'm stuck deciding what fabric to use for her. I should decide that today. She's ten, her favorite color is ostensibly yellow but she mostly wears pinks and purples, she's a grubby kid who wipes her hands on her shirt and always winds up with stains on the belly of her shirt still, and she wants this tunic I think largely so she can cram her tablet into the pocket and go climb trees while listening to audiobooks on speaker. So I want a bright color but not too pale, and I want a tough fabric but not unbreathable, and I'm just. Deciding, still.

Probably what I should do is use some undyed fabric I own, and then bring my supplies and let her tie-dye it. I have a couple other things I could tie-dye, or will by then. That would be a fun bonding activity. I don't know if I'll have time to do it this trip though. So maybe I'll postpone the project and ask her for help once she's on summer break. (Good luck catching her, kids these days have so many summer camps.) As a bonus I bet I could loop her BFF and BFF's Mom in on the tie-dyeing, they're both into that shit.

Hell we could do ice-dyeing, the farm has a 1000-lb ice machine that is very frequently turned on (weekly for the market, biweekly for chicken processing-- there could be ice available at pretty much any time lol).

So anyway. I know she wants me to make a tunic out of a trio of large-print cat shirts she's outgrown, and she wants to wear it for her 5th grade moving up day ceremony, and I looked at it while I was home but I haven't done it yet. I need to get my shit together.

What I might do is print off a size 12 version of the t-shirt pattern I own, it's just that it's designed for busty women because I'm a busty woman, and she's Not, yet (oh, she will be. soon. but not yet.) so I have to kind of. Well, I own a pattern for a swing tunic that's close to what she wants actually. Oh, I should just print that one off. (The joy of the Cashmerette Club subscription patterns is that you get all the sizes, 0-30, and I've now made a couple of them for smaller friends, because like. I mean I own the pattern! PDF patterns are so great because you can reprint them in the smaller size instead of trying to trace it off. I never ever got the hang of tissue paper patterns.)

Yeah here this one, the Wexford Top/Dress, would be easy enough to kind of carve out the bust curve a little and make it fit a kid, because it's not meant to be that fitted. I'll just sort of use that as a general guideline and then make the cut-out-and-patchworked t-shirts fit into that approximate silhouette. The way I made the other tunics for her, I just used a shirt whose neck and shoulders still mostly fit her. But these cat shirts she's thoroughly outgrown, so making a new neck/shoulder area would be best.

Orrrrrr.... I could use one of the zillion old t-shirts of mine that I've saved to cut up. The neck/shoulders of a fully adult-sized garment are no longer too big for her. That's easier.

I also have a bunch of garments I want to make for myself, as I don't seem to buy clothes much anymore (I can't bring myself to pay $40 for a dress off the clearance rack that won't fit me and will mostly be polyester and won't be that interesting and will pill the first time I wash it). The Club's latest pattern is a skort/shorts/skirt dealie, and I need more shorts all the time-- I've largely given up on underpants and just wear boxer-briefs or anti-chafe shorts and I just don't see the point now of wearing a pair of panties and then shorts over the top under my skirt. Like. Just wear the shorts! So being able to choose the materials and print and look of that would be pretty great. And the Cashmerette one is inseam-less, like my favorite anti-chafe shorts are.

So I have cut out a pair of just the shorts in a clearance cotton mesh from Dharmatrading, and I even have the correct elastic for the waistband, so that kind of rules. I will sew those up as soon as I get a chance. I would like to make several skorts as well, probably from synthetic ponte or something, but my ideal would be to get some decent merino/nylon jersey and do a few from that. You never see merino skorts but I would wear the shit out of those.

I also have a lovely underpants pattern from the Club from ages ago, and while I rarely wear underpants of that style anymore, I would like having some cute matchy ones to go with the bralettes. Also, I have a shitton of foldover elastic, and I suspect I could use foldover elastic in some of the bralettes I want to make, so I want to get proficient in its use, and there are directions for applying it in the underpants directions, and it seems like a good way to practice. So I cut a muslin of those from the same cotton mesh as the shorts, and just have to sew the pieces together.

I also want to make myself more pretty dresses, and I have parts of a new Studio Tunic for myself already cut out, but not the rest.

And I recently made myself the button-up shirt from the Club, I know I posted about it on here. And I wanted to immediately make myself several more, and I got out some fabric and prepared it and cut out one pattern piece and then ran out of time. So yesterday I finally cut out the rest of the shirt from this fabric, a print from Mood covered in tiny dinosaurs. So I have that all ready to go in a plastic baggie too, just waiting for me to have time to sit and sew it. (Once I do that, I would really like to make myself a dress version of it from the cool green not-quite-seersucker I got from that remnant bolt at Promenade Fabrics in New Orleans.)

AND. i also have resolved to make my BFF, the one in Rochester who I lived with for a bit in the pandemic, with the little kids-- MM-- I am going to make her a sloper, before I see her next weekend, or maybe while I see her next weekend if i don't get to it in time argh, and I am going to at least try that on her and figure out approximately what shape she is so that I can put together a master pattern for her to make herself dresses from. I took her measurements ages ago, and she's a 14CD bust, a 16 waist, and an 8 hip in Cashmerette's sizing, and so I think just making a sloper with those sizes all graded together will be a huge start. And then we can mildly tweak the fit for her frame, and-- the thing is, she's always buying custom dresses on Etsy because what she wants is very specific and not usually available in stores, and then the dresses come and don't fit her so she has to get them tailored, and then they were just made of cheap quilting cotton from Joann's so they wear out after she washes them a few times, and she's had to add on pockets anyway because they didn't have them.

So I just feel like if I could get her a paper master pattern that fit her... heck i could even just make her dresses if *I* had the pattern. It would be easier and more efficient. I could do the basic construction and then turn over the pockets and embellishments to her, which is what she does anyway. So that's my goal there, and we'll see if I can reach it.

Anyway. If only I didn't have to work at all and could just sew all the time. I am not the first person to say this, LOL.

I have a lot of irons in the fire but at the moment am trapped under a cat so those irons are not going anywhere.

[thefloatingstone]

My gaming laptop (which was a gift from a dear friend) has had its screen die on me because I had the audacity of hitting "print screen" to take a picture of Gale.

The entire screen got a purple filter to it making it painful to look at. And as I was googling ways to try and fix it, the firefox window started burning into the monitor within like 5 minutes.

I plugged in my display tablet and it displays perfectly with no problems, so it's not the graphics card but the physical screen itself. Or at least some connection between the physical screen and graphics card.

Considering this laptop's keyboard doesn't work, trackpad doesn't work, wifi doesn't work and one vent doesn't work, I think this might have to be it for the poor thing. It was a gift from my friend overseas which is what makes me the saddest. But it got me through the entire Mass Effect trilogy as well as 150+ hours of Baldur's Gate 3. and made me very happy for how long I had it.

I am going to go to a computer place on Monday and see between it an another old laptop I have if we can cannabalise it and get a new 2nd hand machine up and running for me. So that in death it may serve me one last time.

But this means this weekend which I was planning to play a shit ton of BG3, that is now not going to happen as my work laptop doesn't have the specs for it.

It just means I'm gonna have a very boring Sunday, yearning for squid.

(as if I don't have books or movies or other things to do).

[quohotos]

i demand the 3D objects thoughts

Well I put it off to the absolute last possible moment. If you're reading this it's already too late. Paint 3d is dead

You will not be able to download it from the Microsoft store, and let's be honest, it's too shit for anyone to actually archive it (not that I'd even know how given it's a uwp distributed through the store and never offered as a standalone exe)

But let's not dance on paint 3d's untimely grave. As the world's first ever Kafkaesque photo editor it gave something very special to us all. I've come to love it, even if every time I use it I feel a deep and unending desire to become the joker. So let us Eulogize this beautiful mix failed start of a future we were promised but was failed to be born. Let's pour one out for Paint 3d, and explain once and for all what it really means to paint 3d.

What is paint 3d?

Before you can understand Paint 3d, you must first understand ms paint. Microsoft paint, often just referred to as "Paint" is one of the oldest standard programs to come with any windows installation. It's a bitmap editor that was begun long before most tiktok users were even born. It holds a special place in a lot of 90s and 00s kid's hearts for two reasons.

without fail, it will be installed on every windows machine. You will always have paint. It's dependable, fast, easy to get into, and will open corrupted or mislabeled images. It's the notepad of images, quick, dirty and gets the job done. You can copy and paste screenshots into there to quickly crop them

It's a little bit shit. It doesn't support transparency (well it does now but lets not get ahead of ourselves) so if you tried to make a minecraft skin with it you'd get all these solid color blobs. It doesn't support layers, so anything made on it is going to have a level of earnest shittyness to it. Text can't be rotated, bounding boxes have to be predefined shapes, and once something is on the page it's on the fucking page. MS. Paint will put pixels on the page for you, but after that point it won't hold your hand.

Point 2 is really a larger part of how ms. Paint is remembered. Ms. Paint is synonymous with youth, it's synonymous with limited computer time, with ignorance, with having nothing better. The spectacle of doing anything in Ms. Paint lead to the selling point of ms paint adventures which became homestuck. If you want to strawman someone's political opinions, you draw them in MS paint. The early, edgy, ugly look of the 00s web was defined by MS paint just as much as it was defined by adobe flash. The limitations of this piece of shit software defined a generation's artistic identity. We love it because it is shit. We would not have it any other way

Okay but you didn't explain Paint 3d!

Well, gosh, don't interrupt me. Yeah, so what is paint 3d? In 2017 Paint was added to the deprecated feature list. A special update was pushed so if you opened up paint it would ask you if you'd rather switch to paint 3d

Paint 3d put a fresh new stab at the utility, redoing it in the new UWP format and dressing it up in the company's then standard design language. The refresh also added a whole host of nice, modern features such as:

An updated set of tools, some but not all of which are pressure sensitive when used with tablets/touch

The ability to use transparency!

Hurray those are great new features wait what do those other buttons do?

Yes paint 3d lives up to it's name, you can add stock 3d models to any of your drawings and they're all kinda awful

3d text, 3d models, go ahead and place them in your scene. They put the whole project spark asset library in there last year, if you can think of it it's probably not in there but hey there'll be something and it may or may not have a texture because the model may have been intended for 3d printing

You can manipulate these objects with a slick interface that's completely non industry standard but hey it at least looks nice.

Models can also be painted on and you can pick from these options to decide the albedo/metalic values. No I don't know how to set the custom values, sometimes it's there and if you click off it's gone forever. Good luck

Oh and also when you're painting you're given a very convenient gizmo to rotate the object that isn't available in normal mode. You can multi select objects and group them together but beware it doesn't always work and using the undo key sometimes spawns a new copy at the wrong position and scale but don't worry this is a small bug in a new program and certainly won't be present in the final version on November 4th I promise.

You can put stickers on models and there's a nice little UI to stamp it if you want to put multiple here are all the stock standard stickers

You can also use these pretty tiling textures

Or you can add any png from your hardrive

Those are the only options you'll ever get or need. You can also spawn arbitrary shapes, like cubes and spheres

And in a post launch update they even added the fucking TUBE BRUSH

Look how many tube there is. So many tube You can also edit the points individually after they're created but each tube has a maximum number of points that it can contain and you have no way of knowing until it's too late.

You can also use the 3d doodle to make a shitty potato looking thing, but if you browse the #paint3d tag you'll see a lot of people more talented than me using that tool to it's fullest

As you saw you also have the option to round or point the corners.

At any point you can click the 3d view button and suddenly you're no longer head on, you can orbit the camera and view the scene from any angle. Is it actually good to work with 3d scenes in this program? God fucking no

This scene nearly killed my computer to make, and that thing had okay specs for the time. Placing objects with the non standard (but touch friendly) controls is a pain and the camera cannot be oriented in any meaningful way. There is no frecam, there is no camera scale, you can orbit, you can pan. If you want more go learn blender.

You can also change the time of day

Go ahead, rotate the sun or change the filter, some of them are even minecraft specific. Most of them are objectively worse than the default, but hey you get a lot of options

Okay yes these are all cool features, but I've been dancing around paint 3d's one actually cool feature, the one that drives me mad... because it's a good idea

great even...

...too bad it's shackled to this program.

Oh this? This? yeah we can fuck with this. Now we're fucking talking

Now I can move my objects around in 3d, scale them, reorent them and make all kind of cool 3d compositions out of cut out pieces of my 2d artwork. If you look at any cool marketing material this is by far the feature they're most proud of

The possibilities are endless... unfortunately they're also frustrating.

See that flower I made has a white background, and there's no magic eraser so I'd need to manually cut it out with the eraser... or use magic select

If you're in a video call while this UI is active and you're sharing your screen it will only show the gif and not the program itsself

With the add and subtract tools you can provide hints about what should and should not be included. That's fine for something as simple as this drawn with a pen tool, but... well if you like to draw with the pencil? Get ready for pain buckeraroo. You can't manually slice out what you want, you just have to get the AI to guess and it will never guess perfectly. Part of your bat will be left behind on the canvas or it'll start picking up a few extra white pixels

but hey, it's 3d now, sometimes it works. You can choose to content aware fill whatever was behind on the canvas, or leave a weird white empty space behind

But now I have a field of flowers I can move however I like, okay but I think I want to add an extra leaf to one of them

Get fucked. Idiot. Once you cut it out, it's like paper. These 3d canvasses can never be grown, only shrunk and only by the eraser tool which carves in a perfect circle like a bull in a china shop. Now, it's actually very cool how you can recursively create new 3d canvasses out of existing ones, and I'm sure you could do cool stuff but any time the canvas shrinks that's as big as it'll ever be it can never grow

Also, yeah you can't just make a canvas in place, you either have to reserve space on your main canvas or clip it off of a second canvas you make earlier and just... I don't know stash it off to the side out of frame? this is how you use layers and if you want to re-order them put them in literal 3d space? Want to hide a layer? Put it behind your canvas.

This is what experts are calling: "technically a workflow, I guess"

This would be a really cool feature, unfortunately it's just not finished. It's missing that extra 20% that would make it at home in real software versus just a toy. Just like paint you have to sort of plan ahead and make all of your layers. In order... but in reverse bob ross order. See you need to make all of your foregrounds first, then and only then can you start working on your background canvas, and should you ever change your mind and want another foreground you must destroy a space of your background to create it. Oh, also, once it's 3d it can never be re-projected back into 2d... well you can turn it into a sticker, which kicks ass, but that will be flattened, if you wanted to retain the 3d rotation of it too bad. Also, making something into a sticker physically consumes it, so you'll need to copy and paste it first just in case otherwise it's gone forever

oh yeah and sometimes copy and pasting doesn't work, creates extra clones, or places them at the wrong space.

Okay let's save our work

You can actually save it as a project folder. You heard me right, folder. Paint 3d stores projects as individual folders

And they're all just called checkpoint, there's no association with like, which project each one is

And they're all full of undocumented binary files, with the exception of a png thumbnail at the very bottom.

So uhhh, why? You can't send project files to other people, at least not easilly. Is this some library that I don't know about? This all boggles my mind. I mean a .docx file is just a renamed zip file was it too much to ask to make these all renamed zips? Why would you leave it half finished like that and just not make a "new" file type?

Okay sorry I got lost in the weeds. Also I hit the image limit for this post so you're just gonna have to bear with me and use your imagination. You can do this I believe in you.

You can export as a .glb file that goes to your 3d objects folder (put a pin in that), or you can export it as a video/gif. There are few pre-canned animations like bobbing back and forth or rotating on a turntable. They can be sped up or slowed down, but that's about it.

Okay but why 3d?

God damnit I'm going to need more images for this so I'm gonna post this as is and hope I can add more photos on the reblog...

[ralfmaximus]

Interviewer: So what's your favorite memory about time travel?

Historian: What, besides the obvious? Seeing 'history' come alive?

Interviewer: *laughs*

Historian: Let me think...

Interviewer: Take your time

Historian: Ha!

Historian: Um... well, there was this one time. It was in the 1200s Common Era, I forget the exact date. But one of the profs was really super into illuminated manuscripts. You know, those things monks are always depicted as copying by hand

Interviewer: uh huh, with the haircut

Historian: Yes, with the haircut! And we had some unused time machine credits in the budget, so I figured 'why not?' and went back to 1200-something CE to snatch a transcriptionist

Interviewer: Wait, you what now

Historian: Well 'snatch' is strong... more like, borrowed

Interviewer: ..is that legal?

Historian: *laughs* oh goodness me, no

Interviewer: So should we be talking--

Historian: Oh, it's fine! Everything worked out fine, you see. The little guy spent five months here, illuminating the prof's boss's PHD thesis

Interviewer: Their what?!

Historian: You know, the summary of his doctoral dissertation, in printed form. Boss had copies of that thing laying around that he'd give out as gifts. Cases of them printed up. I dunno why... vanity I suppose

Interviewer: But he illuminated...?

Historian: The monk, yes. We set him up with a full period-accurate suite of writing instruments, completely accurate because *laughs* we snatched those too, you see

Interviewer: So he spent five... months... illuminating

Historian: Transcribing by hand, yes. Well you know, many of those original volumes took years to complete, so five months--

Interviewer: But... why?

Historian: Because it's funny, you see! The plan was to present the prof's boss with this historically accurate illuminated version of his own dissertation, created by--

Interviewer: Okay, I get it. So what happened? How'd it turn out?

Historian: Ah. Well. He never finished it. Made it maybe two-thirds in, then somebody made a critical mistake

Interviewer: A mistake?

Historian: Uh huh. Yes, we'd been extremely careful to keep the chap contained within our little historically accurate lab. Told him it was part of Heaven, and that God had a little project for him, nevermind the strange letters and words... it all worked out pretty well. Until one day containment was, ah, broken

Interviewer: Oh no

Historian: Yes. And one of the interns showed our visiting monk a tablet computer

Interviewer: OH NO

Historian: Microsoft Surface Pro 9 I think. With 16 gig of RAM

Interviewer: ..what happened?

Historian: Oh he loved the stylus

Interviewer: No I mean... what happened?

Historian: OH. Yes, well, he flew into a rage when we took it away. Wrecked his writing station. Accused us of deception, demonic influences. Destroyed his work. Literally set fire to it, actually, set off all the fire alarms. We had to sedate the poor guy in the end

Interviewer: Oh noooo

Historian: Yeah. Tranquilizer dart in the ass, just like at the zoo

Interviewer: So where is he now?

Historian: Safely returned to 1200-something CE, not even thirty seconds after the original snatch! Absolute precision time machine work. Probably thought he dozed off, the whole thing a bad dream...

Interviewer: So why is that your favorite time travel memory?

Historian: Oh! Because... let me show you this

Historian: *operates Microsoft tablet, brings up image, zooms in*

Historian: from Nativity with Six Dominican Monks circa 1265 CE... take a look at... THAT page, there

Interviewer: Oh my.. is that? Are they..?

Historian: Yes! All the monks are carrying Microsoft Surface tablets

Interviewer: oh no

Historian: Yeah well, at least they're not fucking iPads

*recording stops*

[truebluehue]

Fall Surprises

╒══════════════════════════════════════╕

It was unexpected. The random cornucopia filled with fake pumpkins and squash. Jake never thought that any of the scientists would decorate for holidays, especially an earth one. So he shrugged it off as a newbie with homesickness. But then more popped up. A vase of fake sunflowers and chrysanthemum, a different cornucopia this time filled with fake pine cones, cinnamon and more squash. So of course he has to ask Augustine about it.

“So,” Jake starts as he wheels to the link pod, Augustine calibrating his unit to run as smoothly as possible. Ever since his run in with the Navi, Jake’s been building some trust to get Augustine back in. Once he delivered the news, Augustine was excited to finally get a chance to see the Omaticaya. “Who’s leaving all the decorations around?” Jake asks, already moving to open the pod, ready to feel the freedom only Pandora could give.

“Tech engineer. She started it one year as a joke and it's been stuck since.” Augustine gestures to him, no longer offering to help.  “The part that always remains the same is that no one can catch her. We know who it is but she’s never caught. Y/n is actually the one who keeps these things going. Now let’s get moving. The Omaticaya are always on the move.” And that was the end of that.

It took another week, a bunch more flowers, and the new addition of tiny turkeys in random places before he finally got to put a face to the mysterious decorator. Jake’s used to waking up early, thanks to the military, so he’s glad he did when he made his way to Augustine earlier than usual. She’s swearing up a storm about his link pod being faulty thanks to a broken fuse. He must have come at the tail end of the lash out as Augustine lights a cigarette. “Fuse blown huh?” Jake says with a smirk and then he looks down, seeing a pair of legs under his usual link pod.

You shake your head, head swimming already at the amount of things that could go wrong. Damn pod’s electroencephalogram was completely fried, don't know how Grace even kept this thing running. “Sorry Augustine. Gotta look for the part in the big warehouse. Hopefully it's been cataloged but I doubt it.” You call out as you stand up and look at Jake. “You must be the hot shot who got in with the Omaticaya. Name’s Y/n.” You hold out your hand.

Well I’ll be damned. Jake has seen his fair share of breathtaking people back on earth, but you. You were dropped dead gorgeous. Jake lets an easy smile fall onto his face, might as well shoot his shot. “Nice to finally put a face to the person decorating. Name’s Jake, hot stuff.” Jake shakes your hand, not at all surprised by the quite firm grip on his hand.

You let out a chuckle. “How can you be so sure?” You drop his hand. “I’ll go see about the part. Grace. Jake.” And with that you walk away, already typing away on a tablet. Hot stuff, huh? You smile, planning away.

Jake was tired. The Colonel in one ear. Grace and the Omaticaya in one. Half of his brain wanted his legs back, the other wanting to roam on a significantly taller set of legs. Power or freedom. The never ending battle. Jake sighs as he enters his room, ready to at least get a couple hours of sleep. Though he doubts it. Ever since he came to Pandora he feels as if he left one war and jumped into another. From defending governmental assets, dealing with the aftermath of being deemed useless by the government, to grieving for his brother's death by under-dealing with a militarized Bill Nye wet dream. Hooah, am I right.

Jake gets ready for bed, the earlier difficulties of changing made easier by time. He goes to wash his face when he’s stopped. Now I would remember leaving that taped up. Pulling the note down, Jake is quick to open and read.  Mouth agape he opens his bathroom door, a machine printed Flor de Mayo flower on his counter. “Well I’ll be damned.” 

So a marine, huh?

Wasn’t sure if I had any flowers from there so I made this one from scratch. I’ll be ready at 7 on Friday.

Hot Stuff There were oil spots on the bottom corner and it was crinkled, but Jake held it like it was a winning lottery ticket. Jake touches the pink and white paint of the flower. Wasn’t expecting to be the one asked on a date. But he’s sure as hell gonna take it. Who woulda thought I liked flowers.

╚═════════════════════════════════v═══╝

Flor de mayo is the national Venezuelan flower. Men deserve flowers.

Hope you enjoyed. :)

[sombersummerskies]

A Champion's Love: Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Interference

Word Count: 4005

CW: None

Want all the chapters? -> Masterlist

~~~ <> ~~~

“Alright fellas, we’re doing laps today! Sword training’s been fine, but what you lot need to work on is endurance! Let’s go!”

You’re stood atop one of the walls of Lookout Landing, looking down at the soldiers you were working on training. It had begun after the attack on the fortress, you’d worked with the Lucky Clover Gazette (Traysi’s newspaper, which she was currently printing from her small home in Hateno Village) to put out flyers all across Hyrule. Soon you began to get people pouring into the landing searching for work and asking to be taught by you.

Now, three months later, you had a formidable set of soldiers. Many of them were showing natural skill and proving their work ethic to you by training day and night. You weren’t cruel, of course, you’d allow them days of rest. You’d organized them all into separate groups and would cycle out who you’d be working with on a day-to-day basis. Admittedly you had a bias, as today’s group consisted of your favorite trainee: Link.

Of all your ‘students’ Link was showing the most promise, immediately adept with sword fighting. After some practice, he proved to have good aim with a bow as well. You watched as he, along with the rest of his unit, jogged laps around Lookout Landing.

You hear your name be called out and turn. Peering over the edge of the wall you see Purah waving up at you. She grins, “hey champ! How goes training?”

“Well enough, once I get their lazy butts off the ground,” you reply jokingly, “how about you? How’s the Purah Pad coming along?”

The Purah Pad, the latest project of the small scientist. With all of the Sheikah technology being dismantled, it included the old Sheikah Slate as well. Now all of the tech was being repurposed into new machines, and the first Purah was working on was a new handheld tablet with a working map and runes.

“It’s okayyy,” she drawls, shrugging her shoulders, “still needs quite a bit of calibration before I even want to try testing it out. But soon I’ll have it working in a snap! Oh, by the way, let your platoon know that breakfast is ready in the shelter!”

“Will do!” you shout back, giving her a thumbs up before you turn back to your soldiers.

Once they finish your laps you get their attention, letting them take a break to eat. The majority seem grateful, attempting to catch their breaths and hide how red their faces are from the running. You take count of each of them as they descend into the shelter, ensuring everyone is accounted for. The last person in line is Link who gives you a smile as he wipes the sweat off his face with his tunic.

“You alright?” you ask him, “a little jog won’t put you out of commission, will it?”

He shakes his head and grins, signing back to you: I - feel - great - but - need - water.

“Better stay hydrated, soldier,” you chuckle, teasingly pointing a finger at him before he descends down the ladder.

Eventually, you hop down into the shelter as well. You can’t help but smile at the sound of conversation amongst all your trainees. It reminds you of when you yourself were a soldier in training for the army. You take your portion of breakfast, which today appears to be veggie rice balls and a slice of meat pie.

As you eat your lunch you idly chat. Some people ask you about your experiences as a knight, others talk to you about traveling around Hyrule. With the resident chef you ask for cooking advice, and with the shelter’s nurse you arrange to place a new order for medical supplies (as some of your soldiers are more prone to injury than others).

“Oh, look, a new batch of papers from the gazette,” someone says.

Slowly the pile of newspapers is handed around the room, everyone interested in reading it taking their own copy. Someone kindly hands one to you, knowing that you’ve made a habit of reading every edition that Traysi publishes. When you turn the papers over, however, you’re shocked by what you see on the front page.

An illustration of Prince Sidon has been printed on the paper, one depicting him at the entrance to Zora’s Domain. Ceremonial Trident in hand and with a wide, cheerful grin on his face. In bold text at the top of the page it reads Zora Prince Returns To Hyrule. Your eyes quickly skim over the small text of the article, containing details of how the domain celebrated the prince’s return and how beloved he was, being one of the important figures that helped fend off Calamity Ganon.

Your fingers trace over the drawing, a small smile sneaking its way onto your face.

When you look up you see a multitude of faces looking back at you, cheesy grins on all of their faces.

“At ease,” you instruct your soldiers, “and keep yourselves out of my business. I should have you each do fifty push-ups for being so nosey.”

They respond with a symphony of ‘yes ma’am!’s ‘sorry’s and ‘please forgive us’s, all of which make you laugh and roll your eyes.

“I’m joking- partially, do make it a habit to not pry into my personal matters,” you respond, “however, you can count yourselves lucky. I’ll be ending training early today and making my way to Zora’s Domain. Just make sure all of our weapons are sharpened before we have our next sparring session.”

As you make arrangements for your journey East it’s hard for you to contain your excitement. You’re giddy, it’s been half a year after all since you last saw the prince. Did you look presentable? What should you wear? Should you bring a gift? What do you even gift to a prince who has all of the luxuries one could ask for?

You ponder these questions as you ride horseback on Persephone, thoughts swirling as she gallops toward the Lanayru Region. As you think about gifts, something on the side of the road catches your eye. You tug on the reins, bringing your steed to a stop.

In the grass was a group of blooming flowers, a mix of blue nightshades and violets.

‘A gift,’ you think, kneeling in the grass.

You pluck the flowers gently to keep their stems intact. Once you gather them all into your arms you walk down the path on foot, whistling for Persephone to trot beside you. Your fingers work deftly, looping the flowers together and tying knots out of the stems. As you walk you pluck more plants, adding armoranths to the mix.

Eventually, you’ve crafted a wreath of flowers large enough that once you see the prince you’d be able to place it across his shoulders.

‘Perfect,’ you think to yourself as you climb onto Persephone’s back once more.

“C’mon Persie, let’s go visit Sidon,” you murmur, patting the side of her neck.

…

Your boots pad against the smooth floor of the palace. You’d left your horse at the end of the bridge, allowing her to graze in the grass. It was the evening now, the sun just having set behind the mountains. You’re greeted by many of the Zora, all of whom seem to be in good spirits.

There’s a grin on your face as you say hello to everyone you pass. The flower wreath is draped over one of your arms as you walk. You make your way up the large staircases, past the goddess statue, and up to the throne room- only to be shocked when you find the room empty.

Your smile drops a little. “Maybe he’s in his chambers,” you mumble to yourself, turning on your heel and descending the staircase. As you attempt to enter the inner hallways of the palace, you’re suddenly stopped in your tracks by two elder Zora. You recognize both of them from a few months prior, one resembling a squid and the other a sawfish.

“Ah- Hylian-” one of the councilmen pipes up, “why are you here today?”

You feel your eye twitch but attempt to maintain your composure, “I’m here to see Prince Sidon, I’d like to welcome him back after six months away.”

“He’s busy,” the other elder shoots back dryly.

“O-oh,” you reply, “may I ask with what?”

“I should think that it is none of your concern, Hylian, it’s royal matters after all.”

You clear your throat nervously and nod, “I see, of course. Could you at least let him know that I’m here and would like to speak with him?”

The two men share a glance before one curtly nods his head, “of course, we will make the prince aware of his guest. Now please, vacate these halls, you have no purpose down here.”

There’s an odd tone to his voice, but you choose not to question it. You bow your head and reply with a quick thank you, even though internally you want to do nothing more than scream at the councilmen. You retreat from the halls and make your way up the stairs once more, eventually finding yourself at the tide pools beneath the throne room.

With a sigh you take a seat, removing your boots so that you can dip your feet in the cool water. Gently you set the flower wreathe aside, ensuring it isn’t damaged. You want it to be in pristine condition for when you present it to Sidon.

You aimlessly kick your feet as you wait. The occasional Zora who passes by stops to hold a conversation with you, the majority of them asking about how you’d spent the last half a year. Eventually, some of the children come to keep you company, Tumbo and Laruta excitedly talking your ear off about their various shenanigans.

The smile doesn’t leave your face as you chat with the kids, but internally you can’t help but worry.

Sidon was nowhere to be seen.

You’re not sure exactly how much time passes, but it’s enough for the Zora to enjoy their suppers. For the children to be called home. For the guards to swap to night watch. For the luminous stone lamps to glow brighter. For the moon to cross the sky.

Hours. Hours pass.

And Prince Sidon never shows up.

The tears start before you can stop them. One falls, then another, and very soon you have your face buried in your hands as you silently sob. You count yourself lucky that all the Zora had left for bed, meaning no one was around to bear witness. You curl in on yourself, hugging your knees as you weep quietly.

What had changed? Could six months possibly be enough time for him to forget about his affection for you? You understood that he had his princely duties, but to not even come and say hello.

Perhaps this was normal? You’d never been in love before, let alone in a relationship. Perhaps you were acting naive.

Sniffling you stand, grabbing your boots and the flowers and walking away from the tide pools. You move silently, walking to the front of the palace. The nighttime is quiet aside from the trickling of the various waterfalls. You pause.

The centerpiece of the plaza, Mipha’s statue, smiles down upon you.

“Am I doing something wrong?” you whisper, casting her a forlorn look, “was I expecting too much?”

There’s no response, of course.

You sigh, taking the wreath and placing it on the ground in front of her, arranging it delicately. Then you tug your bots on and hug your arms to yourself, walking away toward the bridge. You can’t bring yourself to look back at the palace, the tears threatening to fall again.

…

Unbeknownst to you, the prince had been in the Pristine Sanctum; a private chamber hidden behind one of the many waterfalls of the domain, known only to the royal family and its council.

“Father, an arranged marriage?” Sidon pleaded, looking up to the king with concern on his face, “how could you never have told me? Why must I have found out in such a way?”

King Dorephan sighed deeply, a frown on his face as he leaned back in his chair, “I apologize, my son. I hoped that it would never have to come to this. Had I known that Sola would be so diligent in pursuing this outcome, I would have informed you sooner.”

Beside the king, Muzu stands with guilt written on his face as he casts his gaze downward. He had been the one to tell Sidon about the arrangement- though the prince had never informed anyone of the conversation he heard in the first place.

Prince Sidon stubbornly confronts them both, “I will not go through with this. I will not be forced into a marriage.”

“But sire, the alliance,” Muzu retorts, “we have a long and storied partnership with our fellow settlement, it would be a historic upset to sever that!”

“Is there no other way to maintain our ally?” Sidon challenges, “is a marriage truly the only solution?”

Dorephan answers, “our standing was severely weakened after the calamity. With the heir to the throne, Mipha, dead, and Hyrule as a whole beaten down by Ganon, our allies saw no benefit in keeping their ties with us. The settlement Lady Yona hails from is our last Zora alliance. If we do not remain connected with them, we risk losing our connections to our history and culture. King Sola demands a marriage- he knows that our bloodline stems from ancient times and is well-respected. He believes that an engagement will heighten not only Yona’s legitimacy but his own as well.”

Sidon shakes in anger as he stares up at the king. “Father, this is not fair,” he responds, voice tense with emotion, “you chose your queen. You chose her out of love and compassion. Why can I not choose mine?”

“... every king must make sacrifices for the sake of fulfilling their duty,” the king replies sadly, “I fear that this must be yours, my son.”

“You expect me to sever my relationship? To sacrifice the love that I have for _____?” the prince says with gritted teeth, “you would like to see me heartbroken? To see me in despair? You expect me to break her precious heart as well?”

“Son-” Dorephan sighs woefully, but Sidon does not relent.

“I will not allow this, I will not lose someone whom I love so dearly again,” he argues, “I will find a way around this, I will find another solution.”

Before either of them can attempt to stop him, the prince turns and marches out of the sanctum. Even the coolness of the waterfall does little to calm his anger. As he walks out he’s surprised to see two of the councilmen awaiting him; Luve and Morato.

“My liege,” Luve, with the fins of a sawfish, says as he bows out of respect, “I trust that your meeting went well.”

Sidon’s shoulders tense but he forces a smile onto his face, “it was fine, thank you, gentlemen. If you excuse me, however, I will be on my way.”

“Ah, but sire!” the other, Morato who resembles a squid, pipes up, “you are needed in the library, you must write about your diplomatic travels for the archive.”

The prince does his best to hide the disappointment that he feels. “I understand, and I will do my due diligence to archive my journey, I promise. However, I’ve made arrangements to travel to Lookout Landing. I intend to visit Princess Zelda and the Hylian Champion.”

Luve and Morato exchange looks with one another as if they’re having a silent conversation that Sidon cannot interpret. “The Hylian knight is actually quite busy” Morato retorts, crossing his fins, “we hear she’s preoccupied with training the new army, and we suspect she is not accepting visitors at this time.”

Sidon feels himself grow more frustrated by the second and attempts to reply, “yes, I understand, but-”

He’s swiftly interrupted by Luve, “Your Royal Highness, we insist you maintain your responsibilities. The archives need to be updated as soon as possible, this is not a matter which can be delayed.”

Prince Sidon takes in a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm before he says something he may regret to the two elders. “... Understood. I will go to the library. At the very least, could one of you get in contact with Captain Bazz? I would like for him to forward a message to the champion for me.”

Luve and Morato smile keenly, nodding their heads at the prince. In truth, neither of them intends to relay any kind of message. Just as neither of them had intended to inform the prince of your presence in the palace.

Thus, Sidon spends his evening in the domain’s library, unaware that you were waiting for him at the tide pools. Hours pass as he diligently writes on the parchment paper, documenting his journey to the allied settlement. He describes fanciful feasts, exciting festivals, and his thorough exploration of their cove- but he does not document the arrangement between the kings. He refuses to make note of the supposed engagement between himself and Lady Yona.

Once the prince feels satisfied, he rolls up the parchment and places it on one of the many shelves the library maintains. As he retires to his private chambers for the night, he is none the wiser to your presence- or the fact that at this same moment in time, you were walking away from the palace.

Sidon sighs as he sits in his room, placing his chin in his hands as he thinks. Why had the councilmen been so insistent? Documenting his diplomatic trip was important, yes, but it could have been done at any time. He would have far preferred to spend those hours traveling West toward Hyrule Field.

He misses you so dearly. After months away he longs to see your face, hear your voice, feel your touch. He can’t help but pine for you. “I will make my way to Lookout Landing tomorrow,” he whispers to himself, “nothing will delay me any further.”

The next morning the prince is in the plaza, the owners of the Seabed Inn and General Shop having requested his presence. They discuss inventory as Cleff, owner of the shop, seems particularly interested in establishing trade with the new landing in central Hyrule. As the three Zora converse, some of the children come running by.

“Finley,” the inn owner, Kayden, chastizes his daughter, “please be more quiet, we’re having a discussion.”

Sidon chuckles, waving a hand, “it is fine, I implore you, let the young ones have their fun.”

“Prince Sidon, Prince Sidon!” Laruta cheers, drawing his attention, “did you see the champion? She was here yesterday!”

His heart skips a beat, eyes widening as he listens to the child’s words. “Pardon? Did you say that the Hylian Champion was in Zora’s Domain?”

This time it’s Tumbo who speaks up, “yeah, at the tide pools! I was telling her all about our new game, where I pretend to be a big scary monster, and Finley and Laruta and Keye have to try to beat me up, and-”

As the young Zora rambles Sidon feels his heart begin to race. He looks up at the two owners and bows his head, “forgive me, there’s something I must attend to. I will be sure to reach out to the head of Lookout Landing to establish that trade!”

He quickly turns and spots Bazz at the entrance to the Great Zora Bridge. The prince immediately walks over and catches the captain’s attention, pulling him aside for a conversation. “Sidon?” Bazz asks, confused about the sudden urgency.

“Did you have a chance to send that letter to the champion?” Sidon asks, “if not, there’s no need to bother yourself with it any longer, I will be going to central Hyrule myself.”

Bazz stares back blankly, a look of confusion finding its way to his features. “... a letter?” he replies.

Now it’s Sidon’s turn to be confused. “Yes, the letter, did the councilmen not inform you of it yesterday?”

The captain shakes his head, “prince, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Prince Sidon pauses, shutting his eyes and sighing. He puts together the puzzle pieces in his mind, hands clenching into fists and a frown forming on his face. “I see,” he sighs, “it appears that there is some interference at play here.”

“Interference?” Bazz repeats, tilting his head, “how do you mean?”

“_____ was here yesterday, I can only assume with the intention of seeing me. However, I was never informed,” Sidon explains, “at the same time, I had asked the elders to contact you and have you send a message to Lookout Landing. It appears they deliberately ignored me.”

The captain sways to the side nervously, leaning against his spear, “well. This is certainly a predicament. You don’t think that… they’re trying to interfere with your courtship, do you?”

Sidon’s gaze, full of anger, is cast downward, “I fear this may be the case. If it is, I will confront the elders about it later. For now, however, I will be traveling Westward to the landing.”

Bazz salutes his friend, “good luck to you then, prince. Don’t let anyone stop you.”

The prince replies as he casts his gaze upward, eyeing the throne room, “I don’t intend to.”

…

“_____? Are you feeling alright?”

You groan, tugging the bedsheets over your face, wanting to hide from the world.

“Come now, you must eat something. It’s nearly lunchtime, and you’ve been in bed all day.”

With a grumble you tug the bedsheets off, looking up at the figure beside you. The princess gazed down at you with a face of concern. The both of you were in the soon-to-be laboratory, Purah having been kind enough to let you sleep here to avoid the communal shelter.

“Will you at least have some water?” Zelda asks.

You allow yourself to be dragged out of bed and guided to the table. You’re handed a glass of water which you sip on slowly, throat sore due to the fact that you’d cried yourself to sleep the night prior. Zelda stands behind your chair and you feel her fingers begin to pull your hair apart, likely attempting to make your bedhead appear more presentable.

The princess fills the silence by talking, letting you know about the progress with the schoolhouse in Hateno Village. You blink the sleep from your eyes as she speaks, grateful that she wasn’t seeking any responses from you. There’s a plate of pastries on the table and you reach out to grab a nutcake, which seems to please Zelda.

“The soldiers were awaiting instruction, so I’ve told them to spar for the time being,” she explains, pulling her hands away from your hair, “they were admittedly a tad worried about you, but I said that it was a personal matter… do you still not want to talk about it?”

You shake your head silently.

Zelda sighs, but nods her head, “alright. I will not pry. But whenever you’d like to talk, I’ll be here for you.”

This brings a small smile to your lips. You’re eternally grateful for her friendship. It helps to soothe all of your confusing and upsetting emotions, even if only a little.

‘Might as well make myself useful today,’ you think as you stand, ‘trainees are waiting to hear from me, after all.’

You wordlessly get dressed, tugging on your tunic and armor, strapping on your gloves and boots, and securing the Master Sword’s scabbard around your torso. You splash your face with water, hoping to get rid of the evidence of your tears and tireless night. As you dig through your travel pack you hear a voice outside the door.

“Hey champ!” Purah calls out, “you’ve got a guest!”

‘A guest?’

~~~ <> ~~~

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[tchaikovskaya]

even from a utilitarian perspective cursive is better like the ONLY REASON this hang up exists is because for some fucking reason schools decided to teach print writing!! print writing is not even meant for inks and pencils it is meant for printing machines and stone tablets. people should only be taught to write in cursive.

yeah i feel like people are now like "teach to read and write block/print letters and at least read cursive even if you don't use it" when i think it would make more sense for that to be flipped...? idk about every country/culture but i know in russia they teach cursive right off the bat and they seem to be doing fine lol